Elegy for a Pilot
by Edea-007
Summary: A story about life, death, and the lie inside that keeps Yuy alive, even in the midst of a three ring circus, even in the midst of his final curtain call... (Sequel to Five Year Sunglasses)
1. All the Things She Said

One: All the Things She Said  
  
People change. Times change. Everything changes, and over the course of eight years, one begins to get nostalgic about the past. Everyone starts thinking about the good old days when everything cost less and crime was at an all time low. People remember past sins and transgressions as well as those perfect moments that are etched into the annals of time. It's the perfect feeling of bliss; the longing for that bittersweet fruit known as your life from before. No one can deny it and no one can escape it.  
  
But there are those that nostalgia contaminates like a poison.   
  
It slowly strangles their sense of being while their past comes calling, drudging with it memories so horrible and so murky that they had simply ceased to exist in the person's own mind before the terrible and insane remembrance creeps round. To some, nostalgia is like a railroad spike to head, or a gunshot wound to the chest. Their feelings bleed them dry; leaving them for vultures to pick at. It's another name for suicide and a dead-wringer murder.   
  
It's a shame though, when someone considers nostalgia to be a curse. It means they've led a hard life, maybe one that they didn't choose. Can you imagine living a life that was a total waste? Doing something you hated; regretting every moment you were alive? So to them, it's understandable that memories of the past would cause pain. A pain so intense that there's a pounding in your head; having to pop pills to dull the screaming in your soul, and with every valium you take it's another nail in the coffin made for you and your tears. A drugged up, miserable shell of a person - that's the kind that nostalgia kills. It's a slow killer, sipping away at the happiness in your life until there's nothing left to sip, but it's an efficient killer. So efficient that nobody even notices it.   
  
They both had the kind of memories that kill.  
  
He always walked around aimlessly in the streets, looking for some kind of sign. Now he was just willing to go on anything. Optimism and pessimism had become obsolete, and now he was just looking for a lead to check, anything new to go on. He was every Freud's dream. He was the perfect test subject for a psycho-therapist to research, analyze, and rehabilitate. Hell, they might even get in some good poking and prodding the way his life had been going.   
  
He was tired of caring, but part of him wouldn't quit. He was twenty-five, broke as he could ever be, and living in a small apartment, clinging to a memory from the past that even Christ himself had forgotten about by now. He had turned to alcohol and smokes in search of that perfect high - that zen like feeling where his balls weren't in his stomach and his head wasn't up his ass.   
  
Now, he looked out the window, praying to Christ or to Buddha. He didn't care who answered, just as long as somebody did. The streetlights twinkled in a weird kind of light show while sirens and cars driving by created a soundtrack to the scene he had grown so accustomed to - poverty. He had made himself poor in his search for the one thing that he was convinced could save him. The angel in his hell, the light behind the thunderstorm - she had caused him to lose everything in the last three years. He spent a few months in the Sudan, a while in what was once India, just searching for his her. He was like a kid digging around for the ring in the Cracker Jack box, only, it had taken him a little over 38 months to even get close to the piece of plastic.   
  
He looked up at the sky and saw a star fall from depths unknown. Maybe it wasn't a star, maybe it was some metal scrap burning as it hit the atmosphere, someone's creation melting away in seconds. Everything they'd worked so hard for. He took another drink from his six or seventh half-empty beer, he couldn't remember. It made him sick - how life could be destroyed with the simple flip of a switch, a simple wave of the hand. He took a smoke from his cancer stick and blew out the air.   
  
She really shouldn't matter this fucking much. Stupid gir-- no, not a girl anymore. She was a woman, a mother, and a whore of a wife to some asshole man who took her from him. His blood boiled over, and the sick taste of jealously ruined the beer in his mouth. He threw the bottle against the wall and kicked over a chair. Stupid whore! The stupid bitch! She didn't care how he felt! She just wanted him to wither up and die like a damn dog!   
  
"Well I'm not! I'm not going to stop until I've found you and made your life so fucking miserable you can't stand it and come running back!" He screamed to the girl who was only in his head, to the girl that stole away his thoughts during the day and corrupted his dreams at night. For everyone else she was just a ghost, but to him, she was a bittersweet memory he intended to get back.  
  
The alcohol took over his brain, and words and feelings weren't his anymore. He stumbled around - pathetic - his stolid features not so stolid anymore. He was pale; he hadn't been eating. The shock of failure was too much. He was so sure he was going to find her today. That the woman he had been chasing after for seven months was her..  
  
But it wasn't, and the failure was killing him.  
  
The boy turned man fell over onto his couch. All his money was gone. He was going to have to stay in this God awful little town for a while; try and recover before he went on the hunt again.   
  
Three years. It had been three awful years and he still wasn't any further ahead than where he had a been. He had run the race, but somehow managed to make it back to start. And if a miracle or something didn't happen soon--  
  
He was a wreck and he knew it. He had once been so on top of his game that nobody could have stopped him. Nobody could have made him feel like he did now. And now, now he just looked like your average drunk, some guy who, life had kicked too many times in the ass, and he couldn't stand to be like this. If he couldn't get out of it, he'd take the shot that would.  
  
Yuy laid down on his couch and tried to forget. There was no sense in remembering now, although memories were the only things that kept him going. He just needed to clear his head. He was older and wiser - his boyish good looks had morphed into appeal and sexual charm.   
  
Now why was he thinking about that? Heero smiled a little and closed his eyes.   
  
Yeah, if he just went to sleep, all would be better in the morning. He could start anew. New clothes, new job, and a new goal - money.  
  
And the idea seemed fantastic as he drifted to sleep, but when he woke up, it didn't seem so great. For one thing he had the hangover of all hangovers. He decided that six beers was his limit before he totally flipped out. There was the issue of broken furniture and the hole the cigarette had burned into the carpet... And the chair and drapes. Heero shakily stood up, took a step, and found himself faced with another issue, the vomit he just contributed to the floor.  
  
Oh yes, all was anew in the morning. New problems, new needs, and of course, new bills. Wasn't life just dandy?  
  
Biased anyone?  
  
He took a shower, ate some breakfast, and then left his apartment. He needed both air and to find a job, so he left.  
  
It was eleven o'clock in the morning and the city life was just bursting with different races, faces, and opportunities. But walking down the street, Yuy, in his black jacket and jeans, just looked morose and depressed. An artist would have said the perfect picture of defeat and pain in a human.   
  
Yuy would have called it his life.   
  
The wind blew a little, rustling his hair and freezing his nose. It was December in the town of San Muerte and Heero had a feeling it would be August before he left it again.   
  
August, frickin' August before he got out of this hell hole...  
  
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He'd find a nice job, get into a healthy non-smoking, non-drinking routine, and stop hating life. Those months would probably just fly by. San Muerte could even turn out to be somewhat of a nice place, when it wasn't thirty-six degrees. And as he watched the people walk through the streets, the smiles etched in their faces, he saw the snow on the ground and realized why he had such a hatred for himself; for his life. It was December 19th. It was six days before Christmas.  
  
Christmas, a holiday that had meant nothing to him from the moment he was born. It always made him depressed and angry. He had never had anyone to spend it with, anyone to hang lights with. Heero grinned a little as he looked at the window treatments that had toys and presents and reindeer in them. Somewhere, deep down, the thought of having that kind of joy made him happy, made him feel like the world wasn't over.   
  
Yuy walked through the heart of San Muerte, taking the same route he did every day. He past rows of stores, houses, and law firms. He looked up at the signs. It was weird. He had went by these places everyday for what seemed like forever, but it was like he was seeing them for the first time. Taylor's Dry Cleaning, Bakery King, Maxwell Furniture - Heero blinked and looked at the sign again. It said Maxwell Furniture. Maxwell. He wondered how the son of a bitch was doing. In reality, it had been, what, three years since he walked out of Duo's house? Heero shook his head and laughed a little to himself. He had actually jumped out the window of Duo's house.   
  
Pilot boy turned the corner and walked into a little shop called "Ferguson's Library." A tiny bell did it's job when he opened the door and an old man looked up with a smile on his face, one that faded the moment he saw Yuy. The old man waved his hands.  
  
"Oh, it's you." He said in a deep Irish accent. He ran his small and fragile fingers through his silver hair.  
  
"Nice to see you too." Heero said as he took off his black gloves and stuck them in his back pocket. He shook off the cold a little while the old man went back to his work.   
  
"Is Anya working?" Yuy asked.  
  
The Irishman raised his head and narrowed his eyes. Heero was doubtful if he'd receive any kind of answer at all.   
  
"Are you going to buy something if I tell you?" The man asked.   
  
"I can always just start screaming her name." Heero said as he started to open his mouth and shout. That was when the old man waved his arms in frenzy.  
  
"Don't, just don't!" The man looked at Heero and Heero looked back, obviously not willing to budge until he knew if the girl was working or not. The Irishman rolled his eyes in an act of withdrawal. "She's stocking shelves in the Eastern books section."   
  
Heero nodded his head and said thanks while the old man just grumbled.   
  
The shop's layout was simple and small, and Heero walked down the three steps that led him into the gallery of bookshelves. There were at least twenty full sized shelves on either side of the store, which added "a cramped but cute feeling" as Anya had put it. He walked over to the Eastern book section and saw her, with her headset on, doing something that was supposedly dancing, but looked more like a seizure to him. There were books on the floor and a few in her arms that she was randomly throwing on the shelves while closing her eyes and moving her hips seductively to the beat of whatever she was listening to. If Heero hadn't had conversations with her, she might have turned him on.   
  
"Anya." He said loudly, but she didn't hear him and kept dancing. The music was extremely loud and fast, she was singing the words softly and the words were Russian.  
  
"Anya!" Heero shouted. When she started to break dance, he figured he didn't hear her again.   
  
He waited a second and then bent forward and tapped her on the shoulder, sending the books crashing to the floor and getting punched in the face by a very skinny, but extremely powerful blonde Russian. Heero stumbled back a little, feeling the cartilage snapping and the blood flowing. Anya's eyes got huge and she slipped the headphones down around her neck as she grabbed onto his shoulders.  
  
"Oh Christ! I'm so sorry, Cyka!" She said with a deep Russian accent as she titled his head upward. "I didn't break it did I?"  
  
"Well I don't know. I can't feel it." His voice was nasally now. He knew it wasn't broken, but it still hurt like hell.  
  
Anya rolled her eyes. "I hit you hard, but not that hard."   
  
"But it still hurt." Heero looked up at the ceiling while she wiped the blood away with a tissue.  
  
"Woman. I thought you used to be in the Army, ya?" She quipped.  
  
"And I thought you were supposed to be delicate and graceful." He hissed.  
  
Anya smiled. "Cyka."  
  
Heero growled. "Russian."  
  
Yuy let her inspect the damage. He had learned from experience that it was the best thing to do. She was being extremely gentle, but then again, she was always gentle. She was a tall girl, somewhere around five-six or five-seven and her long slender fingers combed over his face with a grace that was as sensual as it was elegant. There was nothing between the two besides a loose acquaintance turned friendship, but still, whenever they touched - no matter what the reason - there was always a kind of chemistry and a strange silence that covered them both. They cracked jokes on each other all the time; she called him Cyka, he made cracks about her being Russian, but, in reality, if things had been different - really different - who knows what could have happened.   
  
"I think you'll live, ya?" She said as she patted him on the cheek and turned around to pick up her books.   
  
Heero rubbed his face and sighed. Anya Korvchek was someone he had found out of sheer accident, and someone he had learned to trust. He met her the first time he had come to San Muerte, looking for his phantom. She was working at a hotel back then, and he was looking to talk to her manager about some information. And while the manager had nothing, Anya set Heero up with some contacts in the city that could help him find anything.   
  
From there on in, she was somewhat of his confidant - he's replacement Duo, sort of. Anya was there for him throughout all his successes and failures. She had picked him up when he was so drunk he couldn't walk; she had house sat for him while he was out of the city. She was the sister he never had, the mother he never needed, and the soul mate he could never be with. Anya loved him unconditionally, and never asked for anything from him except his friendship. Which, in a weird turn of events, Heero gave to her completely.  
  
Korvchek was from Moscow with the bluest eyes anyone could have ever seen and a smile that made men weak in the knees. She was the most gentle woman you could ever meet, and she never hesitated to help someone out. She could hold her own in any fight and spoke seven languages ranging from her native Russian to Chinese and back to English. She was funny, witty, and for a reason he couldn't understand, Yuy felt drawn to her.  
  
But regardless of how perfect she was, Anya had a side that was harsh, shameful, and depressing. The life she had led before had been so horrible and so toxic, it was a miracle she survived. Abusive father, abusive boyfriends, drug addictions that still flared up from time to time - Korvchek was a bleeding angel who passed out in a ditch on her way to the hospital.  
  
When she lived in Moscow she was a high-class call girl. When in Bangkok she made tapes for money and did lines of coke like it was candy. She had been shot by her fiance - who beat her so bad once that she was in a wheelchair for three months - and had been mugged and raped on her way to a Sunday night service at a local church. She tried to kill herself once with pills and just wound up in a mental institution outside of San Muerte. Two years later, she's clean and living straight - working at the bookstore and slugging Heero in the face. And that was another thing, Korvchek had a black belt in everything you could think of and took kick-boxing classes every Tuesday night.   
  
Heero had felt a sympathy for her, a kind of pity, and took her under his wing. She did the same for him and their friendship was cemented when Yuy beat the hell out of her fiance "Luka" with a baseball bat. Rumor had it he was still in the hospital with "critical, but stable" wounds and such.   
  
"So what the hell is you doing here anyway, Yuy? Looking for a good bang, bang." She shot him with her fingers, putting emphasize on the 'bang, bang'. That was another thing they joked about - her having a background of professional whoring and him with his "military background". Bang, bang was just their common bond, so to speak. Heero rolled his eyes and pulled the tissue out from his bleeding nose.  
  
"No. Just, thought we could get a coffee or something."   
  
Anya looked up at him with paranoia and confusion in her eyes. "You and me?"   
  
Yuy nodded quickly, dabbing at his still bleeding nose.   
  
Anya took a step forward and turned her head a little. "Coffee?"  
  
"So glad you can reiterate everything I say." Heero hissed. Anya smiled at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Jesus, it's just a hangover! I need coffee!"  
  
Anya grinned and turned to put the books down. "Right."  
  
"Consider it your Christmas present." Heero mused as he handed her her coat. She signaled to the Irishman that she was taking her break and the two walked out the front door. The snow had begun to fall a little bit and there were carolers and holiday decorations everywhere. Anya laughed.  
  
"I'm surprised you even remembered it was Christmas, ya?!"  
  
"Russian." Heero whispered under his breath.  
  
"Cyka." She whispered back.  
  
They walked a while before they came to a tiny coffee place that was way to expensive and tasted like death on a stick. Heero laughed to himself at the parallel. Anya was a vegetarian, she'd probably never had meat, or "death on a stick". He had roasted a rat or two before over a fire in the middle of nowhere.   
  
Poor Korvchek, some people just haven't lived.   
  
The odd couple took a seat by the window and ordered a coffee, black and straight, and an espresso with cream. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had what. The silence had fallen on them again, while they watched the people walk by, absorbed in their own little worlds, allowing the pilot and Russian to get lost in thoughts of their own.   
  
The walls of the cafe were deep red and they always reminded Heero of blood.  
  
After awhile, Anya pulled out a cigarette and smoked, sipping on her coffee all the while. It was nice, just being there together. No words, no mindless chatter, they were just lingering in each others presence, feeling each other in quiet ways.   
  
But silence was meant to be broken.   
  
"You didn't find her, ya?" She asked as she tapped her ashes into the tray. Heero's stomach and back tightened at the question he had been dreading, and yet, had wanted her to ask more than anything else. He kept staring out the window, reliving the devastating blow when he realized it wasn't Relena he had been chasing, but someone entirely different. He shifted his gaze towards the table in an act of shame, one he knew he didn't feel alone. Anya had felt the shame of failure too; the crushing defeat that swallows you whole and laughs all the while. Maybe that was another reason he kept her close -- she could understand.   
  
"I'm sorry." Her voice overflowed and drowned in sympathy. She hung her head a little, before raising it only to get a tote from her cancer stick. Heero looked up from the grease spot he'd been focusing on. He heard the remorse in her voice and it made him angry. She should never have to be sorry, not ever and definitely not for any mistakes that he made; the thought of it made him sick.  
  
"It's not your fault." He said sharply, hopefully cutting through whatever delusions or feelings she might be having. He met her eyes, and the softness in them made him weak. The perfect soldier turned his head. "I should have realized it wasn't her sooner."  
  
"But you didn't, so don't worry about it." Anya commanded with the tone of general and the voice of a mother. Heero's temper flared and he peered up at her, a fire in his eyes burning. Anya stared back with an rage equaled in fear and understanding.   
  
"I have to." Heero hissed, his memories taking him back to places he thought he'd forgotten. A lump rose in his throat as he thought of her eyes and her smile. He could still smell her perfume, the way her fragile skin had felt against his neck as she cling to him before she left. His memories kept him controlled and kept him wild. Jealously and loss, they were emotions that haunted him, just like she did every night in his cold and bitter dreams.   
  
Heero blinked hard. "It's the only thing that keeps me going."   
  
And if Anya hadn't have known where to look, she would have missed the glassy look that came over his eyes. And if she hadn't of known what to listen for, she would have missed the hint of mourning and the inaudible crack in his voice. Her heart fell from it's high pedestal, and she remembered things that no one should ever have too, and by doing this, she could relate.   
  
The tension was strong enough to choke the life out of anyone who dare speak, so they just sat there, bathing themselves in their bloody and killing-kind memories. The seconds melting to minutes melting to even more. There was a pang inside, just below their breast bones. They could feel it. The soft and subtle hurt that lingered. They could feel it rise slowly, up through their chests and into their throats. And while they could feel the tears well up in each others eyes - while they both knew that they felt the same losses and felt the same cruel hatred - neither had the strength to look at the other. Neither one could let them see each other so vulnerable, so raped and violated, as they were sitting in the chairs by the window, faintly aware that the world was passing them by.  
  
Anya's cigarette burned itself out, and neither of them woke from the dream until the waitress asked if she could get them anything.   
  
"Oh!" Korvchek explained, coming around. "No, no thank you we're fine." The waitress smiled the way waitresses do when they want a tip and told them she'd bring the check over. Heero shook his head and rubbed his eyes.   
  
"If I didn't know you better, I would think that you're nothing but a drunken stalker, ya?" She said with a smile as she took a sip from her cold espresso. Heero looked out the window, still stone cold.   
  
"Maybe that's all I am."  
  
Anya made a noise that resembled a snort of disgust and reached down to grab her purse. "Ya, and maybe I'm nothing but a whore."   
  
Heero quickly turned around and looked at her. "You're not a whore." He said sternly.   
  
She looked up at him, a twisted version of a smile gone frown.  
  
"And you're not a failure."   
  
She had read his mind, just like he knew she would. A shiver went down his spine and he realized that that was exactly what he needed to hear. He wasn't a failure. He had just made a mistake. He had made one mistake - true it was one massive and huge mistake - but it was just a mistake. He bit his lip and sighed. Anya smiled. "You're just a Cyka."  
  
Heero frowned and leaned back in his chair, somewhat relieved that the conversation was taking on more of a lighter mood. "You've got to stop calling me that. I'm not a bitch." Anya smiled as she pulled out a mirror and started to re-apply the make-up that had come off between her morning dressing and her brunch.   
  
"Yes you are my sexy friend." She said while she applied a pink-orange color to her lips. "You are love's bitch and there's not a thing wrong with it."  
  
"If I'm a bitch, than you're a whipping girl." Heero grinned slightly as he yawned a little. It always made him feel better to have a go with Korvchek, in the non-sexual sense.   
  
The snap of her make-up compact sent a tiny echo throughout the little cafe.  
  
"That's something that only I and the thousands of horny people who saw that video will ever know." She mused, and all though it was meant as a joke, a sick realization jabbed at her because what she had just said was very true.  
  
"What if I saw that video?" He asked, letting off his guard and giving a faint smile.  
  
Anya lowered her voice and eyed him seductively. "I could make it a reality."   
  
"More like a nightmare." Heero said as he took the check from the waitress who looked nervous. She had obviously heard some of the conversation.   
  
"You know you'd like it." Korvchek said sarcastically as she looked down at her watch.   
  
"What'd I'd like is to get out of here." Heero growled, a little tired and annoyed by the conversation. Tired because it was idle banter, annoyed because he knew it was true. Somewhere deep down, he probably did want to take Anya and do the things that he couldn't bring himself to say. Besides, he was never one to really sit and talk to anyone.  
  
Anya waved her hands in the air. "Than go, please. Leave me the check!" She commanded with a dramatic flare she had picked up along the way. "My crummy ass pay will cover it." She whined loud enough for him to hear under her breath as she scanned over the bill.   
  
"Goodbye, Anya." Heero said in a way that was meant to end the conversation as he stood up and began to walk towards the door.   
  
"Wait," Anya shouted, confusion and sarcasm coming from her voice, "isn't this my Christmas present?" Yuy turned around puzzled and looked at her. She had a funny habit of saying things right at the last minute that would save her own ass that weren't necessarily true. A habit, he guessed, that came from years of having to look after herself and fight to stay alive.   
  
"Your words or mine?" He asked as he walked back over to the table, her eyes following him all the way. She looked at him, as if to say 'are you serious'?  
  
"Jesus, you really do have a hangover. How much did you drink?" She asked as she reached into her wallet to pull out the cash. Heero sighed.  
  
"Enough to wake me up from the stupor I was in."   
  
Anya looked up at him and her smile seemed to humble him in a way he couldn't understand. Her smile put him at a peace he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he had seen the ghost of his dreams on the beach. "You don't have to pay Yuy." She said as she pulled out her wallet. "I know you're tapped for a while."  
  
"Not enough to stick you with the check." Heero said harshly as he reached into his back pocket for his own money.   
  
"Get out of here." Anya commanded when she saw what she was doing. She laid the money on the table and stood up. "Besides," she said as she took his arm under her's, "I still have a lovely savings account from the whoring and the whoring."  
  
"That's sad." Yuy said, never more serious in his life.   
  
"That's life!" She chirped as they walked out of the cafe, arm in arm, or rather, clinging to his. Then, all of the sudden, she threw his arm down and her natural exuberance and zeal for life kicked in. "Oh God!" She exclaimed as she dug through the war zone they had both dubbed her purse. She pulled out a piece of paper and tried to hand it to him. "Here. Speaking of broke, I think I found you a job."  
  
Heero immediately pulled back his hand and shook his head. "No thanks."  
  
"Oh, what?!" Anya shouted annoyed and pissed as she turned around in a circle. She pushed the paper back at him. Heero pushed her hand away.   
  
"The last time you found me a job it involved security detail at a Chucky the Rat's," He explained bluntly, and with sarcasm oozing from every part of his body, he said, "which, I might add, was single handedly the worst job of my life." Anya frowned, hands on her slender hips. Her long, dark green skirt blew in a wind that brought with it a new chill and a new patch of snow. He thought she looked like an angel.  
  
"Hey, you said money, I found it." She pointed out.  
  
Heero nodded his head. "I'll pass Korvchek." He started to walk away.  
  
"This is totally high-class." She yelled after him, but he kept walking. Anya made a noise of disgust and jumped around, then ran up to catch him. Heero could hear her black boots clacking up against the pavement as she came up next to him. She shoved the paper in his face. "Rich guy's looking for body guards."  
  
Pissed and tired, Heero looked at the paper. Finally, in act of benevolence and sheer generosity towards her efforts, he asked, "Why is he looking for those?"  
  
Anya was obviously caught off guard by the question, but in her graceful if not overly sarcastic demeanor, she said, "Why not?" Yuy stopped walking and faced her.   
  
"Look, I appreciate the gestu--  
  
"Take it." She interrupted, placing it in his hands. "Besides, I just paid for my damn Christmas present, I'm not really in the mood to be much more charitable than this, ya?"   
  
They exchanged looks, both with their own intensity and meanings, but in the end, it was pretty obvious who would win the war.  
  
"Fine." He said as he took the paper and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Anya squealed a happy squeal and clapped her hands. She felt like she had done a good thing, but not just any good thing, she had done something good for Yuy, and that brought her a joy indescribable.   
  
"Trust me! I have a good feeling about this one! Something big is going to come out of this, ya?!"   
  
"Yeah, no 'ya'". Heero said as he rolled his eyes. "And besides, that's what you said about the last one too. And you know what happened with that," he paused for effect, "rats."   
  
Anya gave him a smile and ignored the comment. She hugged him, and got a small return. Heero wasn't much a of hugging person, no matter how much time had gone by and no matter how humbled he had become. But it didn't matter to Anya, she would always hug him, even if he did hate it.  
  
"I've got to go. I don't want Ferguson getting all bent out of shape." She said as she started to walk away.   
  
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that." Heero shouted after her.  
  
Anya turned round, walking backwards. "Yeah, the guy probably hasn't been bent in years!"  
  
Heero stared at her in disbelief. "I meant the time."  
  
Korvchek stopped in her tracks and gave a nervous laugh. "I... meant that too."  
  
"Right." He said as he shook his head.  
  
"Much love!" And with a wave, the Russian turned and started to walk briskly down the street, turning a corner in the snow. Heero sighed. If things had been different, he could have really loved that girl in a way that he would never understand. 


	2. Dog Tag Memories

Two: Dog Tag Memories  
  
The long walk home was just that, a long walk home. Heero had spent most of the time he had intended on job hunting just walking around and thinking. Thinking about Anya and all the things she said. He thought about Relena too. He wondered if her life was as good as he hoped. Yuy had even worked out a dialogue of what to say when he saw her. Granted, it wasn't a very good dialogue - in fact it was probably one of the worst ever composed in the history of mankind considering the fact that he shot her in the middle, but the point was he had made one, not if it was any good or not. There would be plenty of time to critique the details later.  
  
He walked up the stairs of his apartment, twisted the key, and walked in the door. Amazingly, the house was still a mess. There was a stench of smoke and beer with a shade of vomit in the two bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen and a living room with a balcony apartment.  
  
Heero cracked open a window and turned on the ceiling fan. It was a good thing he didn't have any animals. They'd probably be dead too, just adding to the putrid smell. And no sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he remembered the goldfish Anya had gotten him. He rolled his eyes. There was no sense in trying to save it now, it had been at least two weeks since he had last thought about feeding it and God knows how long ago he had actually fed it.  
  
Yuy sat down on his couch, throwing his jacket on the coffee table. It was around eight o'clock now and he had eaten a sandwich before he came home. He didn't have a TV and his radio was busted, leaving him with not much to do. He picked up a magazine that lay on the table. Maybe he could go next door and ask for one that wasn't from a year ago.  
  
He tossed the old and tired literature in the garbage can as he walked back into his bedroom. He took of his shoes and let his bare feet rub against the carpet. It was the ugliest damn carpet he had ever seen, shag, and a dark forest green. What did he care though? It's not like he owned the place or could even afford to replace it.  
  
He walked back out into the living room and decided that he should at least try to clean a little. The chair he had kicked over was put right-side up again. He put a new light bulb in the lamp and picked up the glass from the beer bottles he had tossed against the wall. Yuy walked over and picked up his jacket, intent on hanging it up, when out fell the piece of paper Anya had given him earlier. He stared at it for a minute; watched it sit on the floor just waiting to be picked up. Part of him wanted to pick it up, and the other half wanted to throw it away. But throwing it away would mean he'd have to pick it up, so Heero sighed in a what-the-hell fashion and bent down, and scooped up the notebook paper with the words scribbled on it.  
  
D. Ky Takada. Looking for body guards. Need experience and be ready to provide demonstration. Thought you might be good candidate. It's a top- dollar job. Big bucks. All ready made you an appointment. Interview is Thursday at 3 at the Meridian Plaza in Dolthan. Don't be mad. You look good in a suit. Much Love, Anya.  
  
Heero blinked. She had all ready made him an appointment. Well isn't that just great? He shook his head and balled up the piece of paper. He tossed it over into the corner, collapsed onto the couch, and was suddenly unimpressed with idea of cleaning. He had an interview in a day in a city that was two hundred miles away for a job he wasn't even sure he wanted. Who cares if it sounded important? Who cared if the money was exactly what he needed? It was two hundred miles too far; too far from his sources and two hundred miles too far from Anya.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
0r it could be just what he was looking for. A top-dollar job for a top- dollar guy and top-dollar guys usually have top-dollar connections. When one's a bodyguard for a top-dollar connection, well, you hear things. Sometimes valuable things. Who knows, maybe he would even find her. He laid there for a moment, wrapped in the silence. Somebody giggled.  
  
Heero's eyes shot open, alarm and violence echoing from each as his hand instinctively dropped down under the couch, pulling out a .357 Magnum. In one swift motion he sat up; eyes surveying the room while his gun lifted towards the door.  
  
Somebody was in his house; someone who he hadn't invited in. A car horn blared in the background.  
  
Yuy rose to his feet, gun stretched in front of him. His blood rushed and his heart thumped like he was back in combat. His military training came crashing back to him as he walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. The house was quiet and empty as he looked in the corners and in the pantry. After a second, he started doubting his own veracity due to the fact that he had just, just come out of hangover the size of Texas. Heero lowered his gun.  
  
Someone ran past him and he heard the giggling again.  
  
Yuy jumped back from surprise and cursed himself for it. He walked out of his kitchen into the hallway, his gun pointed straight out in front of him again. Now he knew it wasn't a hangover or insanity, there was someone here. Someone that shouldn't be.  
  
"You might as well give yourself up." Heero yelled out. Nobody answered as he walked back into the living room. There was a rustle behind him and he turned fast, but only saw nothing. There was gust to the left of him and then to the right of him. It seemed to be all around him and he did a full 360 turn trying to find a target to shoot at. "What the hell..."  
  
Now there were voices all around him, talking in a tongue he couldn't understand. They whispered and hissed; there was alarm and panic in their tones. He heard the giggle again. It was the sound of a woman, coming from the hallway. Heero ran towards the long corridor; his gun had staying in the firing position and his eyes still the eyes of a blood-thirsty killer. Or maybe they were just the eyes of a soldier.  
  
And then, it hit him.  
  
He turned back and looked into his living room. There was no furniture. The couch he had been on was gone - the chairs, the rug were all gone. The flooring was wood now, complimenting the dark red walls. Yuy walked back into the room; in disbelief and a confusion so strong it overwhelmed him. He shook his head and ran back into his kitchen. Nothing was there either, and the walls were red and the floors wooden.  
  
His boots made a tapping sound on the floor as he walked. He looked down at his feet. He had taken his shoes off. Yuy looked at his clothes; he hadn't laid down in these either. He was in black suit pants and a white shirt that was unbuttoned. He had dog-tags around his neck. He held them up so he could see the name: Yuy, Heero.  
  
Heero let them fall back down against his chest. He didn't have any tags.  
  
Yuy gripped his gun much, much tighter and fought back a rising lump in his throat. He wasn't a man who feared death, but he was a man that was weary when it came to the unknown. Call it all the years of fighting in a mobile suit and all the times unexpected things had happened. The death of Treize, the disappearance of Relena, and now...  
  
This situation fit into that category.  
  
The sun was shining brightly through the balcony doors when he had been damn sure that it had been night. He heard the laugh again and looked down his hallway just in time to see a blonde-haired girl in a white run into his bedroom, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Heero stared at the door. It used to be brown; now it was painted white.  
  
This wasn't normal. None of this felt right. He pulled the trigger of his gun back, the click leaving him a little bit of confidence to disdain the weird feeling of worry as he started down the corridor.  
  
Yuy's heart was pounding hard and his mind raced with thoughts of what he might find or what he would do if he found anything. And the funny thing was, he couldn't figure out why. Why he was reacting this way, or why he was starting to be afraid.  
  
"Heero..." A quiet, wistful voice called.  
  
Heero stopped dead in his tracks. He knew the voice; it was faintly familiar or enough so that it set off the little warning bells in his head. Yuy called back out. "Anya?" He waited, but there was no answer. "Anya, if that's you, just... Just stop it. This is too insane."  
  
"Heero..." The voice chimed again in a sing-song pattern. "Come here, Heero..."  
  
Yuy's breathing was heavier now and his testosterone was starting to kick in. This was crazy. Who cares if it was weird or not?! The only thing he had to worry about was whether or not whoever was in his room had a gun! Besides, he had one, and there was nothing in there that a shot or two to the chest wouldn't cure. Heero rolled his neck and took a breath before he started walking again. If the voice was beckoning him, than hell, he would beckon himself to it. The unknown is only unknown until you kick open a door and find out what the hell it is.  
  
The voice kept calling his name and he kept walking.  
  
The air in his hallway was thick and putrid, but he recognized it right away. It was the stench of death. It was the smell of bodies that had been lying in the trenches for days on end. The door to his bathroom and to his study were gone, there was only the one, white door at the end of the way. With every step he took, the whispering voices got louder and louder and the woman singing his name became more frequent, and more panic-stricken.  
  
"Hurry, Heero..." She said. "Save me Heero... You've got to save me... You've got to save me before it's too late..."  
  
Too late for what? Too late for who? Who was in his room, who was he supposed to help. He felt like screaming until it all stopped, but he didn't.  
  
Yuy quickened his pace as he kept walking down the hallway. It seemed like he couldn't get close to the door. There was a twisted melody the kept playing from somewhere in the house. The kind of tune that plays when you open up a jewelry box, garbled and indistinct. His heart felt like it was beating its way out of his chest and the voice kept calling and for some reason he couldn't go any faster or any slower than he was. Step, step, step...  
  
The smell grew so intense that Heero started to breath through his mouth. It worked for a while, but now he could taste it and its taste was foul. His stomach was on fire and the sickness was slowly beginning to rise up in his throat. He closed his eyes, hoping that maybe it would all go away; that maybe this was just some sick dream he was having.  
  
He allowed himself sight one more time, and found himself in front of the door.  
  
The house was silent. The voices had stopped in once final hush. The music was no more.  
  
This eerie silence was far worse, the calm before the storm. It was absolute silence, no sound of cars rushing by, no rustling of any wind. It was the absence of all sound except for the creek of the boards under his feet. And suddenly, Yuy was scared. No, not scared, he was terrified. He couldn't explain it, but it hit him with the force of God, and now, he was so petrified about what was lurking on the other side of this door that he felt like he was hyperventilating.  
  
Heero stared at the door handle. It was a normal door handle; the kind you would expect to find in an apartment like his. Simple and brass, it hung on the door, making no noise or no gesture. It was just a normal door handle.  
  
So why was he having such a hard time turning it?  
  
The stench of death was gone now, but the air was still thick. Thick enough to choke the life out of anyone; thick enough to choke the life out of Heero. His heart was beating harder and faster and his mind was racing with images of his past battles and wars.  
  
He had to open the door. It was the only way he was going to escape this nightmare. It was the only way out of this hell.  
  
As he reached outward to turn the knob, it felt like something evil was breathing down his neck. He was sure that if he had listened hard enough, he would have heard the labored breathing of something behind him; maybe even hear it growl. Yuy shook off the thoughts and pushed the lump in his throat back down. He reached his hand out towards the door and turned the handle very slow.  
  
The door swung open gently, as it was supposed to.  
  
Heero peered into his bedroom. There was no furniture in the small space, but the walls in this room were white. There was a smell of lilac in the air.  
  
Yuy raised his hands up in front of him, but this time, there was no gun. He looked at his hands, and then back down into the hallway, but there wasn't a hallway anymore. There was a brick wall.  
  
His gun was gone.  
  
Reluctantly, he took a step inward and heard a quiet splash when his black boot hit the wooden floor. He looked down and he prayed to Christ his eyes were betraying him.  
  
The floor was covered in a layer of blood and the smell was far worse than the one in the hallway. It was everywhere now; on the walls, covering the drapes. Bloody handprints stained places on the ceiling and in corners. An overwhelming sadness engulfed him as he closed his eyes. He didn't feel like himself anymore. He didn't feel like his legs were even moving as he walked completely into the room.  
  
There was a strange echo as he came to a stand still, and when he opened his eyes, he wasn't in his bedroom, but in a warehouse. And in the middle of the room were two people, both women and both dressed in white. Heero stared at the two. His mind was shot, exhausted by confusion and anxiety. The feeling of sadness and pain was still with him and grew stronger as he walked forward, trying to see the faces of the figures.  
  
They were both blonde, he could tell by the way the sun shined down on them. The only difference between them really was that one of them was standing on a chair, a rope tired round her neck while the other stood beside her. Heero began to walk a little faster.  
  
"Hey..." He said aloud, hoping to get a reaction from either of the girls. There was no reply. The girl standing on the floor began to circle around the chair. "Hey!" Heero shouted as he got closer. Their faces were becoming more discernable and he thought he knew them both. The girl on the floor wrapped her hands around the back of the chair and Yuy knew exactly what she was going to do.  
  
"Hey! What the hell do you thi--"  
  
And he saw their faces.  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks, a shock giving him paralysis. His heart fell from his chest as he began to shake, slowly understanding the situation.   
  
He began to run.  
  
"Anya!" She looked up at the girl, and then smiled at Heero.  
  
"NO!" He screamed, but it was too late. She slid the chair out from under the blonde-haired princess.  
  
The rope jerked and there was a snap that echoed throughout the entire building. Heero screamed louder as he ran up to Relena, hanging there, like a thief or an executed criminal. There was nothing to do though. With tears pouring down his face, he looked at Anya, who returned the gaze with a double barrel shotgun.  
  
Bang.  
  
Heero's eyes flew open as the phone rang.  
  
His eyes darted around the room. He hadn't been shot; this was good. He was alive. This also was good. There were no chairs or red walls, all the furniture was where it should have been. It had all been a dream, just a dream.   
  
Or a nightmare.   
  
No, this had been different. His nightmares had never been like this. They never involved anyone dying, or guns or whispers. And they had never involved Anya. Or Anya killing--  
  
The phone rang again, and he grabbed it.  
  
"Hello?" He said through the haze of tired and the confusion. A chipper voice came back to him.  
  
"Hello! My name is Martin and I'm with Sigm--" Heero hung up. Salesmen had some nerve calling at -- he looked at his watch. It was 10:13 in the morning. He had over slept a little.   
  
The memories of the dream came back to him and he looked around his living room. The carpet was still that hideous green, but Heero really didn't think it was too hideous anymore.  
  
It was better than wood.  
  
He stumbled up and off the couch. Yuy started to make his way to the bathroom, but he hit his foot on the coffee table and fell over like the mighty Goliath. He hit the ground hard.   
  
Defeated and very not in the mood, he didn't even try to move. He bit his lip and looked at the carpet. He needed to vacuum and it was easy to tell it was going to be one of those days.  
  
A piece of paper laid right in front of him. After a moment of unnecessary deliberation, he picked it up and saw it was the interview info. He had forgotten all about the damn thing.   
  
Yuy blinked. He had been pretty sure he had thrown this in the corner though, and with a doubt, he looked up at the ceiling. Maybe this was a sign that it wasn't going to be one of those days.  
  
He stood up and headed towards his bathroom. The hallway no longer had that ominous, creepy feeling. The door to his room was open and he could see the disaster and mess that he called his own laying on the floor and all over the bed. Relief came slowly, but at any rate it did, and he opened the door to his toilet-room.  
  
He turned on the water to his shower. Yuy looked at himself in the mirror; he looked tired. He looked haggardly, frigid, but more importantly, he looked like a drunkard. How on earth was he ever going to get a good job when he looked like a damn drunkard? He let out a groan, ran his cold hands through his hair, and took off his clothes.  
  
The warm water ran over him, washing away all his worries. He leaned his hands against the shower wall and took a deep breath. He was slowly beginning to lose his mind in this place. His patience was thinning and his attention-span was disappearing; ever since he bought this apartment; ever since he started living in San Muerte, it was like his stone cold self was becoming softer. He was losing his edge.  
  
He needed to go to this interview. He was going to go to the interview. And as he put on his black suit jacket over his white half-buttoned shirt, he felt like there was a world opening up for him. That Anya had been right. Something big was going to happen. He put on the sunglasses he had been clinging to for the last three years, sprayed a little cologne, and walked out his front door.  
  
It was noon when he made it to the train station.   
  
He ran up the stairs to the metro, passing various people on the way. Yuy had made it to the top of the stairs when someone bumped into him. He turned around to see who it was, expecting an 'I'm sorry' or an 'excuse me', but all he saw was a woman in a white dress walking down. Heero let his eyes follow her all the way, till she turned the corner. She was dressed in white. It triggered his dream all over again and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that, he was wearing what he had been in his dream - a black suit and his boots. It was a weird feeling and anyone could have seen the steady creeping fear in his eyes had it not been for her sunglasses he had on.  
  
Heero stood for a moment, shook it off, and got on the 12:15 to Dolthan.  
  
The train ride was extremely uneventful and boring, and Yuy was pummeled with thoughts all the way. Thoughts about the night before, about what he was going to say at his interview -- a batch of the normal mixed with ideas of the new. His dream had obviously meant something, or, he could just be paranoid. It was probably just a collection of things he had seen or heard about from yesterday. Yeah, that's exactly what it was.  
  
The walls of the cafe were red and the floor in the bookstore was made of wood. Heero felt some of the tension drift away after he started making the connections. The dog tags were, like, a symbol of when he had been in the army. Anya had made fun of him earlier that day, asking if he had been in the military. The black pants and white shirt were easy to explain. He must have thought about what he would wear before he fell asleep last night and plenty of women wear white dresses. He must have seen someone with one on earlier.  
  
Heero sighed. There was the one part in his dream that he hadn't seen before. Anya, pulling the chair out from under Relena. That was definitely something he had never thought about, or seen. He finally settled on the idea that it was just his unconscious psyche making up things; making up crazy things while he slept. This new theory was a hell of a lot more comforting then the idea of it being some evil premonition.  
  
Yuy stopped himself. When had he thought it was a premonition? Never once in his mind had he thought of it being a premonition.  
  
"First call! Dolthan! Two minutes! First call, Dolthan! Two minutes!" The voice came over the radio. Heero looked at his watch. It was 2:10pm. The train ride had gone a little faster than expected. He had gotten lost in his thoughts again. He was doing that a lot lately. Maybe it was a sign that he was getting senile or losing his mind.  
  
The train came to a stop at the Dolthan metro, and Heero reluctantly and slowly got off the train. He looked up at the towering skyscrapers and buildings that seemed to overpower him. The sun was hidden by a tall black tower in the distance. It reminded him of the Devil blocking out God's light. He watched the people hurry past him and run down the stairs, towards the taxi's and sidewalks of this immaculate Babylon.   
  
Heero decided he didn't like this place, and would only stay long enough to get the job.  
  
Yuy lit up a cigarette as he walked through the crowded streets. He hated crowds. There were usually people in crowds and he didn't like people. People seemed to clash with his loner idealisms and they stepped on his shoes, bumping into him. And they always try  
to sell you things that you don't want and cough in your general direction.  
  
No, he definitely didn't like crowds of people.  
  
That's why he hated Dolthan. There were so many of them in such a crowded place; the idea of living here made him sick. But that's what would probably happen if he got this job. He'd wind up living in this city. He'd be two hundred miles away from San Muerte, from his home and his contacts. He'd be two hundred miles away from Any--  
  
Heero shook his head. He had all ready had this discussion with himself and there was no sense in having it again. Money is money. He would do what he had to do to get it and if it meant moving away from San Muerte and living in this, this, over-crowded hell hole, than he would. It was as simple as that.  
  
Yuy sighed. He was beginning to seriously think he had grown soft in his old age; that he had lost that stone cold soldier touch; the ability to not involve himself.  
  
There were car horns blaring in the background and people talking non-stop.  
  
Of course he had lost the ability not to involve himself! He was involved with something all ready. It's what made him afraid to take this job; it was the thing that threatened to take his attention away from Relena. It was the blonde Russian that had become his comrade and confidant. He felt like he had to protect her, just the way she had helped him get through the harder parts of his life. Maybe that was what his dream was about. He was becoming so involved with Anya, that she was killing his memories of Relena.  
  
The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth -- Anya killing Relena. And yet, it was all he could think about as he walked down the sidewalk and up the stairs of the Meridian Plaza.  
  
As he pushed open the swinging doors, he let all his thoughts disappear into the inner chambers of his mind. It was time for work, and emotions and thoughts had no reason for being in the business world. It was a game for the big boys, for the highest bidders, and the most stolid and frigid people. He had learned that from day one, and it was a game he intended to win as he walked up to the secretarial desk that scaled an entire wall of this massive black tower.  
  
The woman behind the counter looked up at Heero. "Can I help you?"  
  
Heero took off his sunglasses and stuffed them in his pocket. "My name is Yuy. I have an appointment with Mr. Takada about a job." Heero's face was blank and his eyes were intrusive as he stared at her. The woman shifted in her seat, slightly intimidated and unnerved. She didn't smile at him.  
  
"I'll need two forms of picture identification." She commanded as she adjusted her headset and typed things on her computer. She was a young woman with dark brown hair. The tag on her chest said Merriam and she just looked like a secretary. Heero flashed her his railway pass and his driver's license. The woman typed down the information into her computer. She pulled out a clipboard that had forms on it. "I'll need you to sign those."  
  
Heero glanced through them. They were privacy agreements and a form acknowledging that he understood the conduct expected blah, blah, blah. He signed them all and handed the board back to Merriam. She looked through them, typed more things into her computer, and then dialed a number on a keypad. She pressed her headphone piece to her ear.  
  
"I have a Mr. Yuy who says he has a three o'clock with Mr. Takada and Mr. Rastar." She said diplomatically and professionally into the microphone. Heero looked down at his watch. This was taking a hell of a long time and he really hated to be asked to wait. There was a pause while Merriam received instructions from the person on the other end.  
  
She gave a chipper "Yes, Sir," and looked back up at Heero with a slight smile. She handed him a visitor's badge. "You want to go to floor 17, room 358. You need to wear that at all times on the outside of your jacket, in plain view of all personnel in the building."  
  
Heero nodded. She gave him a 'thanks so much' look and he walked over to the huge double doors that were guarded by two extremely large bouncers. They both eyed Heero as he walked in, his dirty brown hair in disarray. The doors opened and there was yet another set of guards in front of him, but these men were standing beside a metal detector. Yuy rolled his eyes and could only imagine what was going to happen next.  
  
"Sir, please place all metal objects in the box and step through the detector." One of the men in a security uniform said. Heero stared at him and with a heavy heart and angry attitude, pulled out his gun from the holster. The eyes of the guards were less than huge as he pulled out another gun from an ankle holster and an army knife from his pocket. Yuy cleared his throat, and stepped through the detector without it making a sound.  
  
"Sir, you do understand that these weapons are not allowed on the premises." The other guard commanded, obviously trying to act tough, but his intimidation shined through like the damn badge he wore on his chest. Heero just kept staring at them both.  
  
"Well then I guess you'll have to hold them for me until I come back, won't you then?" He asked in the typical Yuy fashion - cold and pissy. The security guard motioned for him to follow him over to a little desk.  
  
"You'll need to fill out these forms." He said, handing Heero a clipboard and pen. Heero smirked. Déjà vu all over again. He signed his name, wrote down what was required, and handed back the pad and pen to the guard. Apparently satisfied with everything, they shakily waved Yuy on through and finally, he could see the damn elevators.  
  
He walked towards them, passing CEO's on their cell phones, girls pushing papers, and all sorts of people with briefcases. He didn't feel so naked without his weapons anymore, but rather, naked because he didn't have a little black device dangling from his ear. God in Heaven! He hoped he didn't amount to this in life. All he wanted was some money, not to sell his soul to the Satan of corporate lackeys.  
  
Heero stepped into the elevator with what felt like 400 other people and pressed seventeen.  
  
The car hadn't even begun to move and Yuy felt like he was going to go postal. Between the people brushing up against him and sneezing and yelling on their cell phones, he felt like it was the end of the world without any escape. The car got up to floor fourteen and with a flurry of other people he exited the elevator before he had the chance to beat them all down with their own PDA's.  
  
Yuy took the stairs and made his way to the seventeenth floor. He walked out into the hallway of this executive building with all its glass and maroon colored carpet and headed towards room 358.  
  
The corridor was long, and he passed the exit for the elevator. There were windows and fancy, up-scaled pictures everywhere on the walls. There were potted plants that looked real, but of course, weren't. Big corporations were too cheap to actually have real plants. Heero looked for any kind of doors, but, there weren't any. In fact, it was just a long corridor. The only door he saw was one at the very, very...  
  
The door at the end of the hallways was a white door.  
  
All of his instincts told him to run. Told him to run like a scared little girl back towards his guns, back towards the street, and right back to San Muerte where he belonged. He could get a nice job making pizzas at Chucky the Rat's. He was sure that they would forget how he broke all of the equipment and shot out the wheels of the golf-cart before he quit. All he had to do was run, but his mind was telling his instincts to shut the hell up. It wasn't a sign or anything like that. It was just a door that was white. God knows there had to be hundreds of thousands of them in this city alone. Right?  
  
Heero took one of those confidence boosting breaths and walked towards the door. Besides, there was no putrid death smell, so it couldn't be that bad. His boots didn't echo, the walls weren't bare, and there weren't any strange voices calling his name either. It was all in his head. That was the next thing he was going to do after this interview. Get a cat scan.  
  
He opened the door and a pleasant little ding came out of nowhere. The opening room was massive; as big as the main lobby for the entire Plaza. Heero quickly understood why there weren't any other doors. Mr. Takada's office took up the entire floor.  
  
He approached the elderly woman behind the desk in front of him. She smiled and handed him a sign-in sheet. She read his name, dialed a number, and told him it would be just a moment before someone would be with him. So he sat. It was 2:56pm and he felt like this was the beginning of his new life.  
  
And he sat.  
  
People came in and out of doors and walked past him, but nobody addressed him or few looked at him. The ones that did had smiled and one woman even mouthed a 'hello'. He was getting bored. It was all right though. He was a soldier and he had been trained to wait, and even though a lot of his patience had become fleeting these days, he still had a shred or two left that would allow him maybe twenty more minutes of this madness. Yuy hated corporations, and he hated be forced to wait.  
  
Finally, fifteen minutes later, a very tall, lanky woman in a dark blue skirt suit came through a door and walked right towards him. Her brown hair was pulled back in a clip and she wore very earthy make-up, making her look like just the kind of woman who would work in a big-shot office and steal people's souls. She smiled the way fake people do as she walked up to him in her one inch heels.  
  
"Mr. Yuy?" She asked with a deep voice as she extended her pale, late twenty-something hand. Heero stood up and gave her his. The two exchanged a look and a hand-shake and that seemed to be that.  
  
"Mr. Yuy, how do you do. My name is Kendra. Kendra Fitcheard." She tossed the section of her hair that had been left down to one side in a very sexy, very corporate way. "If you could come this way." She asked, but not really requested. It was more of a 'you're coming this way' kind of requisitions. Heero nodded and walked behind her. His eyes couldn't help but follow the sway of her hips and of her lower body. She was a thin thing, very pretty. It didn't take him too long to figure out how she had made it this far up the corporate chain.  
  
She led him in through a door and down another long hallway filled with office doors, receptionists, fax machines, board rooms, and finally, a door with a brass plaque on it bearing the name 'Kendra Fitcheard, director of management'. Kendra opened the door and extended her hand inward. "Please."  
  
Heero walked in and stood there, waiting for her to shut the door and tell him to take a seat. Nothing makes a better impression than showing your willingness to submit and be anyone's bitch, even if it means standing until you're told to do otherwise. That was just one of the many secrets Yuy had learned about big corporations over the course of working for them.  
  
Kendra smiled and pointed to a chair, "Please, take a seat."  
  
She circled around the huge mahogany desk that boasted a flat screened computer and a variety of papers and phones. The room was a dark blue, with mahogany and cherry woods all around. There were weird pictures on the walls though. Black and white pictures in very weird angles of fields and various buildings. They were all very intriguing, with a sense of depression about them. Not exactly the kind of pictures you find on a corporate wall.  
  
Fitcheard took a seat, and behind her was the skyline of Dolthan. It was an alluring site, both the woman and the city, but like Heero had decided in the beginning, business is better without thoughts and emotions.  
  
"Mr. Yuy, I'd to thank you for coming today. I understand that you were supposed to meet with Mr. Rastar, but do to circumstances, he is no longer with the company." Kendra said with a hint of happiness in her voice. It was obvious that she wasn't too distraught over the loss of Mr. Rastar, whoever in the hell he was. Heero blinked.  
  
"It's really none of my concern, just as long as someone is able to give me an interview." Heero responded with an icy and commanding authority. Kendra looked at him with a keen interest.  
  
"I usually don't handle these matters, but, We were extremely impressed with your credentials; with your background, Mr. Yuy." She explained as she leaned back in her chair. It took Yuy a minute, but then he understood. Anya must have filled out an application for him online and he fought the urge to say words that weren't very helpful to his character. Now he was up shit's creek without a paddle. She could have lied her ass off on the resume! What did she know about his background anyway?!  
  
Everything.  
  
Well, there had to be a limit on everything right? She could have slipped up and lied anyway, to make him look better. Kendra picked up a file and flipped through it.  
  
"In fact, you really don't have a background, do you Mr. Yuy?" She questioned in an almost sarcastic tone as she tossed her hair again. She had a twisted kind of smile on her face, like she enjoyed interrogation. Heero thought she would have made a good cop.  
  
"Well, that depends on what you consider to be a background and what all you believe on that resume, doesn't it Miss Fitcheard?" He replied, looking directly at her. She intrigued him, not in the sexual sense or in the curious cat scenario, but she had a hidden side. She wasn't like the rest of the suits in the building.  
  
"You're quick on your toes. I like that." Kendra said as she threw the file in front of him. "But a man like you certainly must know that We here at Pennington, Takada, Williams, and Muer, don't just go with what's on a resume."  
  
Heero nodded. "I had a feeling you didn't."  
  
"Oh no." She agreed as she stood up and walked in front of her desk. "We did our own little background check on you, and, well, there isn't much on you before three years ago when you applied for residency in San Muerte." She took a seat on the edge, right in front of Yuy, as if to tempt him, like she was some sort of forbidden fruit. He watched her carefully.  
  
"Are you getting at something Miss Fitcheard?" He asked; his eyes still fixed on her face. She smiled.  
  
"The only thing I'm getting at Mr. Yuy, is that you are exactly the kind of man We here at PTWM are looking for."  
  
"I'm afraid I'm not following you."  
  
Kendra stood up and walked over to the window. "No backgrounds in this day and age mean one of two things. You were either secret police or you were secret military." She turned away from the city and looked back at Yuy. "Judging by your age, I'm going to go with secret military and that means you have the training and you have the skills that are needed to do this job and do it well." She tapped her artificial nails against her front teeth. "Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Heero peered at her, studied her closely. She was either going an awful lot on faith or she knew something she wasn't going to tell him and he was willing to bet on the latter. Fitcheard was the kind of woman who played with a full deck and would even make it look like she didn't just to get what she wanted. He looked down at his hands and then back up to her, his face as blank and frigid as ever. "I'd only agree if you were offering me the job."  
  
"I like your style." She mused.  
  
"Are there any questions to this interview, or is it all just one big 'you tell me a secret and I'll give you a shiny compliment' deal?" He hissed, his patience starting to wear thin. He didn't mind sacrificing himself a little for the sake of employment but it was getting to the point now where she was just jerking his chain, and he was definitely not into that. Kendra's expression went from curious schoolgirl to a widower's glare in a flash. She was apparently very good at whatever it was she was doing.  
  
Ah yes, manipulation.  
  
"Are you afraid of dying, Mr. Yuy?" She asked, as she walked back over to the front of her desk.  
  
"Only if I have a reason." Heero replied, his annoyance obvious by the tone of his voice.  
  
"Are you willing to take a bullet for someone?" Kendra asked, propping herself up again on the mahogany furniture. Her long and slender legs crossed slightly. Heero sighed.  
  
"If I'm paid to do it." The woman peered at him for a moment, not to sure whether he was being serious or not. She knew full well that his man had been a member of a secret military faction. His name sent off too many red flags on the faces of the rich and powerful men she worked for, and if not them than certainly someone they knew. She all ready been given her orders, but she always loved to play with the prey before going in for the final, fatal blow.  
  
Kendra tossed her hair again. She reached behind her and picked back up the file. "Do you know how to shoot a firearm?"  
  
"What do you think?" Heero hissed, half-sarcastic, half-serious. Fitcheard turned a few pages in the file.  
  
"I had a phone call that said you left two guns and an all-purpose Army knife down at the security station, so I'm thinking you do." She said as she looked back up at him.  
  
"Then why'd you ask the question?"  
  
There was a silent stand-off of stares in the room. The last comment had either gone too far or hit just the right spot, Heero was having trouble telling. Kendra was a very hard person to read; she kept changing her methods of attack like most people change underwear. She sighed deeply and tapped her fingers on the manila folder she held in her hands. "Do you have anything you want to say before I give you this job?"  
  
Heero laughed inside. There was just something so unbelievable about this woman. And now, knowing he had the job, he figured he'd have a little fun before he delivered the final, fatal blow to his playtime prey. "What exactly does a director of management do?"  
  
Kendra licked her lips and gave a half-hearted smile. "I oversee all the employees in this particular branch of Pennington, Takada, Williams, and Muer. I'm the one that all the floor managers and any other kind of manager, plus all the people under them answer too." She said. It was apparently a rehearsed answer; she recited it without missing a beat. Heero didn't flinch.  
  
"You mean there's more than one branch?" He asked. It's not like he cared, he was just setting her up so he could watch her fall from her high, high pedestal.  
  
"Good God, of course!" She shouted, almost in complete disbelief of what he just asked. It caught them both a little off guard, but she went ahead with her company speech. "PTWM is one of the largest digital communications firms on earth. This is only one of three hundred and eighty offices." She said the last part with a bit of pride, like she felt special because she belonged to such a big pack.  
  
Heero gave a slight grin. "So how'd a girl like you wind up with a position like this?" She had walked along the dotted lines, straight and narrow, exactly where he wanted her, into the vulnerable spot of all female employees who help the high ranks at a place like this. Kendra gave a little smile and stood up.  
  
"Use your imagination, Mr. Yuy." She purred beautifully as she walked back over to the window. Fitcheard was actually a very lovely woman, and if Heero hadn't been the man he was, he might have felt bad.  
  
"You banged your way to the top." He explained, not to himself and not to her, but to any other listening ears, human or not. He waited for her to tense or show some sign of being struck lame, but she simply gave a little laugh and kept looking out of her palace window down onto her modern-day Babylon.  
  
"My hard-work played a key role in getting me here, Mr. Yuy, but 'corporate compensation' never hurts." She turned and looked at him with a smile that was finally all her own. "Give a little to get a little, you understand?" She asked, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride, shame, and all the glory that comes with both. Heero watched her for a moment and could only shake his head.  
  
"Of course." He said. So this woman wasn't as dumb and dull as she seemed. She was as cunning as they come, and she probably hadn't banged her way all the way to the top. More than likely a lot of her work probably did help her get to where she was today. She turned away from the window and stood beside her desk.  
  
"Is that all the questions you have?" Kendra asked; her ruby red lips forming a half smile.  
  
"Are those all the questions you're going to ask me?" He retorted. This was starting to be fun. Fitcheard twitched her head and sighed.  
  
"Congratulations, Mr. Yuy. You're now a proud member of the PTWM team." She extended her hand in a gesture of kindness, but was met with nothing. Heero stood blankly, any sign of a previous expression gone. It had just clicked to him that he had actually gotten the job. He was going to be two hours away from home. Two hundred something miles away from the only place he had lived in for three years. It made him feel weird about the whole situation and he wondered how far back-tracking would get him.  
  
"Who says I want the job?" His voice seemed normal and elusive. He still held the illusion that he was playing their little game. Any sign of him being nervous wouldn't have been apparent to anyone normal, but not to this woman. She sighed deeply and ran her fingers through her hair. She bit her lip and took a seat right next to Yuy.  
  
"Heero, let's be real here for a moment." There was a simple kind of understanding and compassion that only a woman can have in her voice. She looked at him the way only a mother or a lover could, and it was a nice feeling. "Mr. Takada is a very wealthy man and I've had the pleasure of working with him for two years now. I know what he looks for in his employees, and if you take this job, in a year at most, you could be one of the most influential men in this business."  
  
And in the spirit of weird things, Heero let out a loud and boisterous laugh. "From bodyguard to a suit? I think you're stretching you sales pitch a little Miss Fitcheard." He said through an onslaught of a sarcastic smile. This was crazy, it was better when she wasn't trying so hard. Kendra jumped to her feet.  
  
"I don't think so!" She shouted. "I started off as a secretary for one of the paper pushers in an office down in New Berlin. Do you know what the offices are like down in New Berlin?" She asked; her hands now on her hips.  
  
"I'm guessing not nearly as nice as the offices here." Heero replied. Fitcheard rolled her eyes.  
  
"You have a chance to make something of yourself here!" She explained as she walked back over behind her desk. "You'd be up in this building, and I'd welcome you, just as long as you don't go after my job."  
  
Her words were slowly starting to take route in his mind. Heero understood that technically, he all ready had the job. The question was, not when or how he was going to get it, but more along the lines of exactly what his job entailed and if he was really prepared to pack up the shell of the life he pretended to have and go do this, this thing.  
  
"Am I going to be working for Mr. Takada directly?" He asked, once more returning to the stodgy, frigid man he was so accustomed to being. Kendra looked a little taken back by his comment about the actual work. She flipped through her files.  
  
"Actually, no, you wouldn't." She explained as she read through a piece of paper. She traced a section with her finger. "You would be watching over his wife, Mrs. Takada, over in Grenvale."  
  
And there were a thousand tiny warning bells that went off in his head.  
  
"Grenvale?" He said, reconfirming it only so he could make sure he hadn't had another one of those temporary lapses of sanity. "That's four hours away."  
  
Kendra folded her hands into one another and smiled. She had gone back into corporate junky mode. "Heero," she started off, "while Mr. Takada has some very powerful friends, he also has some very powerful enemies. He needs someone like you looking over her shoulder." And if Yuy hadn't been so disillusioned by the idea of being so far away from home, he would have caught the slip up in her wording, and questioned whether he was being sent to protect Mrs. Takada or make sure she wasn't dabbling in things that the rich and powerful people shouldn't dabble in. But Fitcheard's words had gone in one ear and out the other. He was still trying to grapple with the idea of Grenvale.  
  
"That's almost seven hours away from San Muerte." He thought aloud. Kendra walked back in front of her desk and took a seat on the edge.  
  
"Heero, I understand." Back into mother mode. "You probably have a life in San Muerte, and I have a feeling someone you care about very deeply." Heero looked up at her. He did, he had someone he cared for very much back there, and he didn't know if he could just leave her. But then again, if he didn't, he couldn't find the one woman in the world who made him feel alive, who made him feel like he had worth in this miserable world.  
  
"We all have inhibitions about this at first," Kendra whispered, so only the two of them could hear, "but the job makes it easier, and so does the paycheck." She looked into his eyes and he returned the action. She was searching for that perfect catch phrase and he was searching for the real Kendra, not this fake, done-up thing sitting in front of him. There was a silence in the room, and then she stood up.  
  
"The way I see it, you should take this job." Her voice had taken on a very serious tone, almost cocky, and it rubbed Heero in a very wrong way.  
  
"And why's that?" He snapped, catching himself before he said something he knew he would have regretted. Kendra gave him a sickening smile.  
  
"Because it's the best offer you're going to get." She cooed. Now she was just being bitchy, she thought she had the upper hand. He couldn't understand what made her think she had this leeway in the situation. In fact, he hadn't given her any sign that she really DID have the winning cards in her deck.  
  
"Excuse me?" He asked. It was getting harder and harder to restrain his balled up fists from flying in her direction. Of course he would never hurt a lady, but this thing in front of him wasn't a lady. She was just the shell of something that used to be human.  
  
"You have the look." She mused as she stared at him, almost like she was reading his thoughts.  
  
"What look?" Heero shouted as he rose to his feet, but even that didn't intimidate her. She just smiled and took a step closer to him, even though she was much shorter and could be easily overpowered. Kendra moved with the prowess of a tiger ready for the kill, and Heero noticed for the first time that that was the only thing she was in this for - the kill.  
  
"The look of a man who doesn't have anymore options." She declared proudly because she had won and she knew it. She had penetrated his defenses, broken through his inner shell, and raped his most sensitive thoughts. He had nowhere to go but towards the light that was her. "Take the job, Yuy. Save yourself the pain of poverty." She rubbed her hand against his chest and looked up at him seductively. "It wouldn't suit you."  
  
"It all ready does." He barked as he pushed her away. He started walking towards the door. Kendra sighed.  
  
"Go home, pack your things."  
  
Heero turned and looked at her, almost in the shock that he still had the job.  
  
"Mr. Takada wants you to start immediately. I'll send a car and a truck to your address tomorrow at noon. You'll be in Grenvale by seven and on the clock by eight." She saw the understanding finally wash over him, and that was when she knew -- the final victory was her's. It brought an even scarier smile to her face. She looked at him, bright and chipper. "Congratulations, Heero. You're not unemployed anymore."  
  
Part of him agreed with her, and part of him hated her. He wasn't unemployed anymore, true. But what he was having to give up to have this luxury seemed a bit much. His home, his current lifestyle - granted he wasn't too fond of it, but fondness didn't matter. It was the routine and the familiarity; it was the complete knowledge of almost everything that was going to happen that day or the next or the next. It's like he had said earlier, he wasn't afraid of anything, except the unknown. The unknown did things to his head, made him nervous, and made him unhappy. It made him very unhappy. He had all ready started walking back when in hit him. He in fact, had the Ace of Spades.  
  
"Kendra?" He asked, his voice full of pleasure.  
  
"Yes?" She asked as she took her seat behind her desk. She had put on her glasses, ready to file more things and read through more papers.  
  
"Are you happy?" And as the words slid from his mouth he felt the dagger plunge deep within her. All the while she had been trying to get him to admit he was miserable, she had left herself wide open to the prospect that her life was simply shit in a bag. A very nice bag, but a bag none the less. He could almost hear her stomach tighten and her back straighten. Not only had he just took the victory from her, but he had also killed her, and it was a pleasant feeling.  
  
Fitcheard, no matter how wounded, was still quick on a reply. "Who cares about happy? I have enough money so that I can retire when I turn thirty- five. I can be happy all I want then." It was a true reply, an honest reply - they both knew it. There was a weird silence that fell on them both and she rubbed her hands over her face.  
  
"At noon, tomorrow." She reminded. "Don't forget, and for the love of Christ, don't turn chicken-shit on me."  
  
Heero turned around and looked at her. "Don't worry. If it's one thing I learned in the Army, it's keep your balls."  
  
Kendra laughed and once more, Heero started to walk out.  
  
"Hey, Yuy?" She called to him as he made his way to the door. He stopped and she knew it was her turn in the spotlight. "In the war, what side were you on?"  
  
She heard him sigh, and as he started walking down the hallway she heard him.  
  
"My own."  
  
It was sort of like a dream walking back to the elevator. He didn't care anymore if they rode down with him. The act of signing out his weapons and returning his badge barely registered, as if they were merely programmed into his mind to be done and not recalled. The city seemed more dead than alive as he walked back to the train station. The sky had lost some of its beauty and luster. The crowds didn't matter and the fact that he had run out of smokes didn't really matter either.  
  
He slipped on his sunglasses, took a heavy sigh, and walked up the stairs to catch the 4:10pm train to San Muerte.  
  
The train ride home was uneventful and boring, and Yuy didn't care. He was only pre-occupied with two thoughts and two thoughts alone. Why the hell he had even gotten up this morning, and how he was going to explain things to Anya. 


	3. And Then She Left

Three: And Then She Left  
  
After eight, he walked to his house. He walked back to the place where he had spent the most of his days in San Muerte; the only place he had ever grown accustomed to calling home. He walked up the stairs, the old and worn out stairs. The paint was chipped on the banister and they creaked every time he moved. The stairwell smelled of mold and there were cracks along the walls and on the ceiling. The walls that were once white were now a dingy beige; a sign of the dirt collected on it over time.  
  
There were sixty steps he had to climb to get to the third floor. Sixty moldy, smelly, creaky, old steps that he was going to actually miss. He would have never admitted it to anyone, and if they asked he would have said that this move was for the better. In truth though, he was going to miss this place like he had only missed one other thing in his life...  
  
Heero pushed open the door to the third floor and dragged himself down the rotunda of his apartment building, turning where turning was needed. He finally made it to his place, number 311. He looked at the silver numbers on his door, recording everything about them in his mind. They were his numbers. They were still his numbers, at least for a little while longer.  
  
He pulled out his keys and unlocked his door. This was the last time he would ever come home at night, using his key to get in his apartment.  
  
He paused. His memories were good in this place. Heero looked back down the hall and remembered the time Anya had stolen his keys. She was running towards his door - going to open up his place, and find her birthday present. It would have worked if she hadn't tripped. Yuy smiled. That was one of those moments were he had genuinely been happy, chasing her to get his keys back. He tried to help her up, but she pulled him down next to her. They just lay in the hallway in front of his door, laughing like there was nothing left in the world to do. Sure they had been drunk, but still, it was a wonderful fragment of time they had stolen.  
  
He pushed the door open. They wouldn't be able to do that anymore.  
  
His steps echoed as he walked into the foyer. He put his gun down on the side table and threw his keys in the basket that rested there. Heero walked slowly into his living room. It was a small room. He hadn't never really noticed how small it was until now. It was tiny. His couch, his table, and the chair in the corner - they were the only real pieces of furniture in the room and they were so close together it made the room cramped. It was such a tiny room; he wondered how he had ever lived in it before.  
  
The light on his answering machine was blinking.  
  
The new bodyguard walked over to it. He watched the light blink for a moment - red, gone, red, gone. It was hypnotic, or maybe he was just willing to be put under a spell.  
  
There was a little pang of depression in Yuy and he looked out at his balcony. The sun was just now setting. Just five more days till Christmas. He had hoped he might spend it with Anya like last year. They had gone out, got drunk, and decided that Christmas was a holiday for crazy people. People with families and people with lives. They were people that had been seduced by the holiday cheer and were now maxing out credit cards and throwing themselves to the wolves all in the name of good Saint Nick.  
  
Heero had bought her the Walkman. She had bought him the all- purpose knife.  
  
Yuy took a deep breath. He couldn't think about this shit anymore. He had all ready accepted the job, besides, what about Relena? Why weren't his thoughts plagued with ideas of Relena? Why wasn't he swooning over her or moping over her or doing something self-destructive or crazy to himself over her?! He was mad again and whenever he got mad he drank.  
  
Heero decided against the Jack Daniels and hit a button on the machine. He let it play while he walked into his bedroom to get some boxes.  
  
"Leave a message. Don't hang up." His voice said over the phone. Such a friendly message! An electronic voice kicked in. "You have two messages. Message one:"  
  
Heero walked back in with seven boxes and stared at the machine.  
  
"Yuy. It's Davenport. Listen I have an offer for you. I need you to take care of a--" He hit the erase button. No use in listening to it; he wouldn't be here to do the job anyway. Besides, assassination was never his style. The electronic voice confirmed that he had erased the message.  
  
"Message two:"  
  
"Oh wow, you actually sound like you don't want to kill yourself on that one, ya?" Heero looked up at the machine; a stifled smile crossed his face. Anya. "Uhm, well all right, it's five-thirty and I guess you aren't back from your interview. I was just calling to see, you know, how things went. Just call me when you get this, if you ever check your messages. Much love."  
  
The machine clicked and the electronic voice told him it was the end of the message. He stared at the black box. She had sounded so happy. How could he call her and tell her that he had gotten the job, only it was seven hours away?  
  
How could he tell her he wasn't going to be here for Christmas or any other holiday? Her birthday was coming up soon; he probably wouldn't be able to be here for that either. How could he tell her that the interview she had set up for him was the one thing that was going to take him away?  
  
Guilt swept over him and he fell back into his chair.  
  
The phone rang, but she didn't hear it. She was to busy painting the vase she had just made and listening to extremely loud, completely indiscernible techno music. The second time, she looked over at it, making sure it had, and on the third wring, she put her paintbrush in the pan and turned down the music. She ran over and picked up her phone that resembled a duck.  
  
"Korvchek." She spoke harshly into the receiver as she wiped her eyes with back of her hand. White and blue paint stained her fingers and the apron she had on.  
  
"It's me." Heero said on the other end. He sighed heavily as he sat back down in the chair. This was it. This was the moment of confession, although he wasn't really sure what he was about to confess. He could hear her voice change  
  
from professional to personal; he could almost see the smile that crossed her face.  
  
"You actually picked up the phone and called me, Cyka. I'm very impressed!" She laughed. She took the white portable phone and headed into her kitchen. The teapot on the stove was whistling. "Just a sec." She took it off the burner and turned off the stove. He listen to the whistle cease, dreading the moment when she would ask the question--  
  
"So how did it go? Did you get the job?!" Anya excitedly asked as she sat down with her hot tea on her tiny purple couch. Her apartment was a small studio space on the first floor of an old building on the opposite side of town. She looked out the window in front of her and saw the giant buildings with their lights on. She took a breath and smiled.  
  
She really enjoyed her life now. It was a good life.  
  
She took a sip of her tea and waited. The silence on the other end of the line was normal, but, when it lasted a little bit longer than a minute, she began to worry. "Heero?"  
  
"Yeah?" He replied and for a moment, she thought she heard his voice crack a little, like he was fighting back some sadness. Her smile faded to a serious blankness that covered her face. She put her cup down on her end table.  
  
"Did you get the job?" She asked, and he could hear the worry in her voice. Yuy took a deep breath and wiped the slight wetness from his eyes. It was now or never.  
  
"Yeah, actually, I did." He said, recovering a stable tone and composure. He felt like such a freak of nature, getting all misty eyed over something as stupid as moving. Anya's voice picked up enthusiasm and he heard her swallow the tea in her mouth.  
  
"That's fantastic!" She shouted into the duck. She was so happy for him! She knew he would get the job. She knew he was what they wanted - that Mr. Takada. And now, because of her, he was one-step closer to his dream. One-step closer to finding that girl he always talked about, that blonde fairy that stole away his dreams. He now had the job, the money, and he'd be in the center of knowledge and information - Dolthan, and her own staggering realization took the breath out her.  
  
He would be in Dolthan, and she would be here, left here, in San Muerte. Anya closed her eyes. It was a horrible realization, the kind that should be locked away somewhere. She mustered the courage up and pushed back the estrangement in her throat.  
  
"I'm guessing this means you're moving to Dolthan, huh?" She asked through a haze of confusion.  
  
And there it was. The question he had prayed with all of his heart she would never ask, and yet, the one question he needed her too more than anything else. Yuy looked down at his feet and ran his cold, strong hands through his dirty brown hair. He sat now, in a sea of loneliness and his own personal torment. He still had his white dress shirt. He used to have another one like it, but it had been thrown away after he had been shot in it. For some reason, he felt like Anya was that shirt he was throwing away.  
  
Two shirts, which to get rid of and which to keep? .  
  
"That's the, the part about it..." Christ, it shouldn't be so hard to tell her this! He didn't love her! She was just a girl he knew! She was just a girl he had grown accustomed to. It was the unknown he was afraid of, the loss of familiarity - not the loss of Anya. His rationalization gave him a sort of strength.  
  
"Uhm, no, I won't be in Dolthan." He said.  
  
"Oh?" She said quickly. Anya sat back down on her couch. If he wasn't going to be in Dolthan, maybe he was going to stay here? No, that was crazy. He wouldn't be put in San Muerte. He was going to leave. He was going to go far, far away. She laid her head down in the palm of her hand and let it sink if for a moment.  
  
"So, where exactly, are you going to, be at, exactly?" She eventually managed to say. Her tone betraying her own breaking heart. She sounded curious, curious and happy, and it was the tone in her voice that finally killed him. The Heero Yuy of the now took and deep breath and closed down his mind. He let himself fall through a web of his own murky pasts, and when he finally exhaled, he was Heero Yuy the Gundam Pilot.  
  
"I'm going to be in Grenvale." He said, his voice as blank and cold as the expression on his face. He stood up and started to put things in the first box.  
  
Anya let her arm slide down to her side. The shock had taken root now, and there were no people in the world anymore. Just her and the man on the other end of the phone line. The man on the other end of the line who was moving away from her. The man on the other end of the line who had saved her from herself so many times. She blinked, her body slowly shutting down, one emotion at a time.  
  
"Grenvale." She repeated in a low and monotone voice.  
  
"It's only seven hours away." Heero retorted, not breaking his code of the perfect soldier. "It's not like I'm moving to a different colony or something."  
  
Korvchek could hear the frigidness in his voice, and she could see his face in her mind. His eyes were cold and black now. She knew the face well. It was the face that he fronted when he had given up. It was the face he fronted when he didn't care, or when he cared so much that the pain was so sharp it brought tears to his eyes.  
  
"When do you leave?" Her voice was still low and bitter.  
  
"Tomorrow." Heero said as he threw another thing into the box.  
  
"Tomorrow?!" Anya's voice cracked through the tears in her voice, and it came out as only a whisper. Her world was falling apart now, or rather, it wasn't really falling apart, just slowly losing some of the finer buildings. Her mouth fell open and she tried to recover from her emotional breakdown. "Wow, they, really..." She stopped and took a deep breath to try to regulate her sporadic breathing. "They really must have wanted you on their team, ya?" She laughed as she tried to shrug off the hurt. It was hard, but she knew she'd survived. She always had.  
  
"I guess so." Heero replied as nonchalant as possible. She heard him pull some tape and wrap it around a box. He certainly wasn't wasting anytime.  
  
"So you're packing right now?" Korvchek asked. She knew he was packing, they both knew that she did. But for some reason, as she wiped the tears away from her eyes and blinked hard, she had to ask. She had to hear it from him.  
  
"Yes, I am." The emotionless soldier returned. He unfolded another box and began walking around the house, tossing random things into the boxes. That was it. She couldn't take it anymore, she was about to loose it, and if he wanted to play Captain Commando - if he wanted to play Mr. I'm-as-Tough- as-Fucking-Nails - fine! Let him! She didn't need this, this added bonus to the depression that was all ready massive.  
  
"Well, okay! I'm going to come over and help you pack tomorrow morning, ya? Around ten?" She said quickly and almost well enough to sound like there was nothing wrong. He could still hear her sniffle on the other end of the receiver and he knew she was going to loose it soon. Anya poured a huge amount of vodka into her tea and took a huge drink. "But I have to go, I'm painting that vase and the paint's all, drying out and, and, and crusting over." She coughed and made a mental note that vodka and green tea was like drinking lighter fluid.  
  
"Ten sounds fine." Heero said, stolid as ever.  
  
Anya closed her eyes tight and tilted her head back. It was no use fighting it anymore, and she let a sob creep out from her voice. "Okay, well," she paused, trying to catch her breath, "I'm going to let you go now."  
  
He heard the cry, and suddenly the soldier boy was gone, but it was too late.  
  
"An--"  
  
The line went dead and he had never felt as alone and as depressed in the last three years as he did at this exact moment. His mind went somewhere else, and all he could do was sit. Sit in his chair.  
  
The dial tone was the only sound heard for a while. Finally, the operator spoke up. There was nothing he could do.  
  
There was nothing at all that could be done.  
  
She just sat on her couch, staring ahead but not really staring at all.  
  
It was like they were watching a dream they couldn't wake up from. Like they were pieces in some horrible nightmare. Or at least, that's how she felt as she laid down on her couch, tears slowly falling from her cerulean colored eyes. He looked out onto the balcony; the pits around his eyes growing more defined. So this was what it was like to live in limbo. Never really knowing what's going to happen next. It didn't matter though, not anymore. Yuy took a deep breath; a sharp quiver jetted through him. There was no turning back now. And it had never been more apparent until he picked up another box and kept packing.  
  
Midnight came and went, taking it with it one and two o'clock. The walls were naked again, and most of his things were packed away, resting in a box on his couch or on the floor in the living room. It was three by the time he finally walked back to his bed and collapsed in a heap of depression, satisfaction, and wonder.  
  
His dreams were empty and her sleep was in vain. Anya tossed and turned all night, and there was a sweet release when his alarm clock went off at seven. Heero woke up. He stared at the ceiling; its strange bumps and patterns from the white powdery shit made it kind of like a maze. A giant maze that had no end.  
  
Oh this was great! It wasn't even eight in the morning yet and he was all ready making analogies for life out a ceiling.  
  
The water washed over her as she stood in the shower. Korvchek closed her eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts, of things that she could grasp hold to for some kind of inner strength or something. She got out of the shower, and after he dried himself off, he put on a fresh suit. Black pants and a jacket with a white shirt under it.  
  
Anya had once told him that he could pass for a movie star if he tried. He sprayed a little cologne on and looked at himself in the mirror. Today was a new day. Today was a fresh start into the world unknown, and she could feel her knees buckling under her. She threw her hair up in a five-second style and walked out the front door in her bohemian peasant dress.  
  
He packed up the last little bit of his things - dishes and silverware and the like. Some clothes went into some of the boxes, and his shoes went in another. It was all good though. He thought that he had maybe finally come to terms with this whole venture into the darkness idea. It wasn't like he was moving to a different colony. He was only seven hours away. That's a good vacation time, a healthy distance for friends. And there was always the phone, and the Internet, and the mail! It wasn't like he was cutting himself off from this world, just relocating for a while.  
  
Heero walked out onto his balcony, and watched the world wake up. Reality was sort of in slow motion now.  
  
Everything was creeping along - cars, people. Or maybe it wasn't the world was going slow, maybe he had just slowed his mind down, so he could remember every detail of this place. Every crook, every corner.  
  
The wind blew in from the east. It was going to be one of those beautiful, beautiful days. He might have gone with Anya for a walk, if he weren't leaving.  
  
It was ten now, and the air still had a fresh snow scent as the white flakes began to fall. It was Saturday, and he watched as people sleepily dragged themselves from their houses to retrieve the morning paper. It was a serene sight, almost tranquil; hypnotic. He leaned against the railing on his balcony, engrossed by the calm.  
  
His doorbell rang and snapped him back to reality.  
  
Yuy looked back into his house. He didn't have to answer the door. He could just let her stay out there; eventually she'd leave. There wouldn't be any confrontations or teary goodbyes that way. The bell rang again and Heero took a deep breath. He could never do that to Anya, and he never would.  
  
So, he went and opened his front door.  
  
Korvchek had a smile on her face and was holding a box of donuts in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other.  
  
Heero looked at her for a moment. She looked different; she looked depressed. It wasn't her expression that betrayed her, it was her eyes. They were still a little bloodshot.  
  
"I have brought donuts and coffee to help us pack!" She said chipper and bright as she rose each hand up. Heero nodded and took the coffee from her. She gracefully walked in to the kitchen and put the donuts down on the counter. Anya took off her hat and gloves and put them in her purse. And finally, she looked around into the apartment.  
  
"Oh." She whispered to herself as she stepped into the living room. There were boxes stacked against walls; there were boxes everywhere. Anya sighed. "You've all ready packed up... Everything." A lump started to rise in her throat as she traced her fingers against the brown cardboard containers that lined the halls of his house. Heero put the coffee he had been drinking down and followed her out into the living room.  
  
"I didn't feel like going to sleep." He said. He gave a small smile when she looked back at him.  
  
"This place is, so empty without stuff in it." She declared with a little laugh. They had never been any good at small talk, and this was just a further testament to that truth. Heero knew what she was trying to do though and he thanked her secretly for it. She was trying to lighten the load, break the ice in some ways. He stared at her while she let her eyes dance around the room. Her hair was falling against her shoulders, damp from snowfall. She was so beautiful.  
  
"Just a little." He replied. He put his hands in his pockets. For people who had been such good friends, it was hard for them to think of things to say. There was a break in the conversation, both looking around blankly. Anya coughed and then looked back at him  
  
"This is one of the nicer apartments in the city though." She gestured towards the kitchen and outside. "You lucked out when you got it."  
  
Heero smirked as he sat down in his chair. "Yeah, that's what a lot of people told me."  
  
"Yeah." Anya said with a smile and nod. She took a seat on the couch.  
  
There was nothing more to say. Nothing to say to each other or about the weather or about any of the things happening in their lives. They just sat.  
  
Once upon a time, one of them might have said that it felt good just to be in each other's company, not saying anything. Just basking in the presence of the other. Now, it was just a death sentence. The awkward absence of anything important -- it was hard enough to even look at each other. Their presence wasn't comforting anymore, just a haunting reminder of what they were fixing to loose.  
  
Two hours passed with the blinking of their eyes. Not a word had passed between the two. They were like prisoners on death row, waiting for the executioner to call them to the gallows. Anya shifted slightly on the couch, her eyes glued to the floor. She couldn't think of anything to say. There just weren't any words to express any of the thoughts or feelings she was having, and she figured he was having the same problem. He was leaned forward in his chair, his eyes on his boots. Every now and then they stole glances at each other, but never let their eyes meet. That would be a suicide of a very different kind -- emotional suicide.  
  
And then there was a knock at the door.  
  
Their eyes darted upward almost at the same time and the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.  
  
Anya finally looked at Heero. It was now or never. If he didn't open the door, they would go away, and he could stay in San Muerte for a little while longer. But if he opened it...  
  
Yuy closed his eyes and with a heavy heart, stood to open the door.  
  
Anya turned away and faced the balcony. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and weep like she had never done before, but she knew she couldn't. It would only make things harder. If she had only known what she was getting into when she had made the call. And her common sense tried to reason with her. It wasn't like he was moving to some colony out in space. He was just moving a city or six away. It wasn't like she was never going to see him again and this was what she had to accept. She was going to see him again, maybe not everyday, maybe not every week, but at least once every month or two. Weekend trips weren't bad.  
  
The movers came in and started picking up boxes and furniture. Heero leaned against a wall and kept looking at the  
  
floor.  
  
Where there had been thirty boxes, now there were only twenty. The twenty turned into thirteen and the thirteen into seven. Anya got off the couch and watched as they took it out of the apartment. Now there were only three boxes.  
  
Then two.  
  
There was only one box left in the entire house, and Korvchek looked at it with a hatred that had defined ages and helped kill kings. It was the symbol. This was the end.  
  
Heero came out from the back, a suitcase by his side. He lowered it to the ground and he finally looked at the little Russian girl he felt like he had known for all his life. He was dressed to leave. His black suit covered by a black trench coat. Anya had always said he could be a movie star if he tried, and now she knew that she had been right. He could be anything he wanted, he was going to be anything he wanted - with or without her.  
  
She smiled and walked up to him. He looked down at her as she ran her hands against the chest of his jacket. He could see her fighting back the tears.  
  
"Look at you." She exclaimed. "My Cyka, all ready to go to work."  
  
He put his hand on the back of her neck, stroking some of her hair that had fallen out. She smelled of fresh lilacs, a smell that Heero didn't think he'd ever be able to forget. He sighed. "You're still the funny Russian."  
  
She laughed. "And I'm still the only one that can make you squeal."  
  
"You grabbed my chest." Heero grinned as he shook his head. "You weren't playing fair."  
  
"Fair's for pansies, ya?" She looked up at him, and her smile faded away. Her eyes were watery now and Yuy could see the creases of pain appearing on her face. It took the whole man inside of him to hold back his own tears.  
  
"It's only seven hours." He whispered to her. She tried to smile, but only gave a weak grin.  
  
"Weekend visits." She mimicked and looked away.  
  
"Mr. Yuy, we're ready." One of the movers called to him.  
  
"Okay." Heero turned to him while Anya looked the other way and wiped her eyes. "Give me a minute." The mover shook his head in understanding and walked out the front door. Heero turned his Russian's face towards him.  
  
"I will come back, Anya." He spoke with a military grace and seriousness that she hadn't seen in a while. She smiled.  
  
"And I'll still be here." She mused as she let a stray tear fall from her face. He watched her as she played with a button on his jacket. He hated long goodbyes. Or maybe it was just that he hated goodbyes in general. Whatever it was, he had to end it now. He looked up at the window and cleared his throat.  
  
"You always did look so handsome in a suit." Anya whispered as she rubbed her hands against the breast of his jacket. There was something different in her touch and he could feel his own doubts and depression starting to rise in his chest. He was going to have to go soon before--  
  
Anya Korvchek raised herself up to Yuy, letting her lips trespass against his own.  
  
Some people say that the world can come to a screeching halt for a person in an unexpected situation, like a car crash or a marriage proposal. They say that time can slow down and minutes can float by like hours. They say people do some crazy things in their time of need, in that last little need for reality. And Heero, too much in surprise and shock to understand or think, did the only thing he could do.  
  
He kissed her back.  
  
There was no pain left now and she knew he had no real reason to stay. But she kissed him and he her. Not because she wanted him, but because she needed him in a way that neither one of them could ever understand. Maybe it was love; maybe it was just the need to taste him before he walked away forever, but it was deeper that anything she had ever felt in her entire life. And as they stood there, intertwined in each other, the world did slow down. And Yuy felt a guilt creep over him as she pulled back.  
  
He looked down at her, confused and bewildered. She returned his gaze with a wounded smile.  
  
"Consider it your Christmas present." She whispered.  
  
Anya Korvchek pulled away from Heero Yuy, and with her came a little piece of a Heaven she knew that she would never have again.  
  
Heero watched in a kind of fixated horror as the Russian girl he had grown so close to picked up her purse and started to walk away.  
  
She stopped, short of the door, and in the tone that was more haunting and more dignified than anything he had ever heard in his life, she simply said: "Goodbye."  
  
The door shut behind her and no words could ever be used to explain the way he felt.  
  
And for a moment, the world seemed surreal.  
  
In a million years he would have never imagined a moment so intense. He had lived through a war, been shot at, and come so close to death that he could feel the pale horse and rider circling round him. But, in that moment - that indefinable moment - Yuy was happy.  
  
Part of him told him to run after her and make her come with him, but his feet wouldn't move. His feet couldn't move. He knew he couldn't. He was too conflicted to try. But in every possible way, Anya had just pulled the chair out from under Relena, and Yuy wondered if he had enough time to cut her down.  
  
He closed his eyes, and this time, when he opened them, nothing had changed. He was still here, in this room. He was still the same old Heero Yuy, and walking out of his apartment building for the last time, he wondered if Anya knew - that if she had asked him to stay - he would have. 


	4. Tequilla Dreams

It wasn't as though she really cared, because she didn't. In fact, on a scale of one to ten on the caring factor, she probably cared a negative three. Yeah, that's it! She didn't need to see her husband on Christmas anyway. Yeah... God knows she didn't, besides, the children would be in from boarding school by then! She always liked having the kids all to herself -- when Ky wasn't around.  
  
Ky Takada was a loving man and a good man, but he was an over-bearing man, and at times could not be motivated to love or care about his family. That's not to say that he didn't care about them, it was just that he didn't love them AS much as work. Work was the main goal on Takada's list of things to do; something that was becoming more apparent to Eileen "Ell" Takada with every passing day, week, or month that he wasn't at the house in Grenvale.  
  
Ell smiled. The house in Grenvale... She never truly thought she'd be using the term "the house".  
  
Of course the Takada's and many of the other upper-management familes at PTWM had more than one house. Eileen and Ky had four places: the one in Grenvale where Ell lived, the second one in the mountains 200 miles north near New Brisbane City. The third was a lake house on Zimmerman Lake and the final being a beach house off the coast of what had been Jamaica. That was her favourite place. It was so beautiful and the waters were so clear. She could get lost in her own thoughts out there, something she missed doing.  
  
But her smile faded as she hung the wreath back on the front door. She had taken it down to add a few beads and tassles. It was as if re-hanging it made her think more clear. Ky wouldn't be home for Christmas and probably not for New Year's either. Ell bit her lip. She couldn't help but feel betrayed. The holidays were a time of family and friends and warmth. All he'd do is send her a tennis bracelet again, trying to make up for something that he could never fix.  
  
She slammed the door, glaring at the red paint that covered it. It reminded her of blood. Ell wanted blood right now. The blood of that no-good-jack- ass-of-a-loser husband she had married. Who the hell did he think he was? 'Sorry Hun, can't make Christmas! Here's another piece of jewelry to go to the five hundred pieces you all ready have! I love you, say hi to the kids for me!'  
  
Mrs. Takada let out something of a muffled scream as she balled her hands up into fists and made her way to the wet bar in the first of many parlors.  
  
"Jingle Bells" hummed from the stereo system as she spread out on her burgundy colored couch in front of the fire. She took a sip from her freshly poured gin and tonic and sighed. There was something about the holidays that made her need to drink. Or maybe it was her marriage. She didn't know. But as the alcohol made it's way down her throat and started to dance the nighttime tango with her blood stream, she began to feel mellowed - quiet. She liked feeling quiet; quiet meant she was at peace. Ell streched out and ran her fingers through her dirty brown mane.  
  
Ell Takada was twenty-five now, the mother of two, and the wife of one very wealthy business man. It still amazed her to this day how her life had turned out. In a million years she would have never pictured herself here, in a fifty-six room mansion on the edge of magnificent hill in the most beautiful countryside God could have ever made. She had everything she could ever want, wore the best clothes money could buy, and was living the picture perfect life.  
  
Maybe that's why she drank.  
  
She had grown up wealthy, lived wealthy, and of course, married the first poor bastard she could have possibly found. The life she was living now wasn't much of a change in the luxury aspect, but rather, the harmonious family setting. There wasn't one of those here. Ky had insisted that their two kids be sent off to the most expensive, most prestigious boarding school money could buy and hesitantly, even involuntarily, she had agreed. They were gone for a set of two months, came home for a week, went back to school for one month, came home for a holiday or something... Ell wasn't sure and it was all bull shit anyway.  
  
The ice cubes rattled in her glass as she took another drink. So here she was, in this huge home, with only the servants and a stupid cat named Mr. Roger Tibbs Anthony Poop (her son had named him) that she didn't even like to keep her company. Ell just called the cat Poop, in regards to her fondness of the animal.  
  
Sometimes, she felt like she had sold her soul to Satan. For what or why exactly, she wasn't clear, but she felt that way.  
  
She rubbed her slender fingers over her face and yawned. "Jingle Bells" had long since faded to some other morose Christmas carol that she knew by heart. Poop came up and climbed on her chest. He purred heavily and did that thing with his paws that she hated so much. The one where his claws went through the material of her shirt and onto her chest and hurt like hell.  
  
"Stupid cat..." Mrs. Takada mummured as she slowly stroked his head. She hated cats, but Ky refused to let them keep the family dog when they moved into the house. And of course, like the dope she was, she agreed.  
  
Ell grinned. She would give a million dollars if she could have taken THAT desicion back.  
  
"Mrs. Takada?" A woman with a thick Spanish accent asked. Ell threw her head up and startled the cat to the point that he lunged off her chest. The woman looked over towards the doorway to see a short, stocky Spanish woman standing in meekly beside the wet bar.  
  
"Yes, what is it Lupe?"  
  
"Don't forget miss, that the Senor Takada is sending that man tonight." The older woman managed to spit out. Her jet black hair was pulled back neatly ontop of her head. The brunette with the cat meowing at her sighed heavily and smacked herself on the forehead.  
  
"Christ... Did Ky say when he was coming?" Ell asked as she stood up and walked over to the doorway. The servant nodded quickly.  
  
"Si Senora! Senor Takada say around eight tonight."  
  
Eileen glanced up at the clock and whispered a quiet 'fuck' to herself. It was a quarter till seven all ready. This was another thing she hated, when her husband made life-altering choices that affected, well, her life and then neglected to say anything about it. For instance, this "man" that was going to show up on her doorstep in less than an hour and a half. He was a new body guard that was supposed to follow her around whenever she left the house and when she had visitors. He was going to be near her 24/7, always ready at a moment's notice.  
  
Ell bit her lip with the ferocity of a crocodile. There were about a hundred things wrong with this particular picture. First, why the hell did she need a bodyguard?! Ky had told her it would make him feel more comfortable with all those crazy people in the world, a.k.a, he was dealing with some big-time drug czars and didn't want her winding up headless and full of holes in a ditch somewhere.  
  
Comforting, at least we know he cares, Ell thought to herself.  
  
Secondly, he hadn't even told her about this new addition to her life until yesterday! Yesterday! Ironically enough, it was yesterday that the son of bitch had told her he wasn't going to be able to make Christmas this year. Oh! but good news now! Her new bodyguard-friend/stalker-who-follows-her- around-everywhere can watch her and her kiddies open presents! Gee golly, gee whiz what had she ever done to deserve this?!  
  
Eileen faked a smile and said thank you to the short Spaniard woman as she made her way back over to the wet-bar and fought the nervous breakdown that was looming just around the corner. A strand of hair fell in front of her face as she grabbed an ash tray and a bottle of the finest Tequilla money could buy and walked back over to the couch.  
  
Part of her felt like crying. In fact, most of her felt like crying and that's what she did as she took a swig from her alcoholic lover and lit her cigarette. For some reason today, it felt as if the walls were closing in all around her and she was suffocating. She couldn't get out; Ell was trapped and there was never a worse feeling than that.  
  
The tears fell freely and the mascara that went with them left zig-zagged, black lines all down her rose-colored cheeks.  
  
All she ever wanted was the dream she kept in her head. To have and hold the one thing that she needed more than anything else in the world: a family, a marriage that wasn't built on a pit of lies, and the one thing that she was so sure she could never have - true happiness. Was it too much to ask for? Was that too much to want or believe in? And as the tears fell from her swollen eyes, she took another sip of the alcohol to dull the pain - the pain that she had created for herself in this emaculate Eden she called home.  
  
The days had blurred into years, and there was no hope left for her. She was so tired of trying and God knows she had tried harder than she had ever been asked to, than anyone had ever been asked to. The fact of the matter was it was killing her. Every moment she spent in this hell hole, every moment she spent in her home, with her family and her cat and her servants and her million-dollar clothes -- every moment she wore her wedding ring, that band of gold she had come to know as her handcuff -- she was slipping away into a deeper darkness, into a deeper kind of black. And it was getting to the point where she was having trouble seeing the way out.  
  
She was broken and ashamed of everything she had become. The petty wife, the tired mother... There were days when she layed in bed for hours, the sun mocking her while she wasted away in her satin sheets. She had pills to knumb the pain and doctors to analyze her problems but they didn't help. Hell, they enjoyed it. The broken spectacle that she called herself. They probably got off on it. Her husband, he loved to play the part of the big man, coming home to protect her, but only when he couldn't get any free action somewhere else. And that was just the beginnning. There was no husband. She didn't even consider him that anymore. He was just that fuck- up that came crawling back when he needed an ego boost. He was a liar and a snake. That's what she had always known and that was what Jose Quiervo was helping her realize.  
  
She was a fool for trying and she was a fool for believing that she could ever be happy. Besides, she didn't really even think she had a home.  
  
The clock chimed eight times, but all she did was sit. Let him come. Let that bastard even try to follow her around. Body guard? Ha! She didn't need one of those... She need another bottle of Tequilla. The other one was almost empty and an empty bottle of Tequilla was like an empty bottle of Tequilla: empty! And it was long about that time that Eileen realized she was drunk off her ass and had burned a hole into her five thousand dollar couch with her fifth cigarette. She wiped her eyes and took a heavy sigh. Somehow, one of her daughter's "Songs for Kids" cds had been left in the changer, and the enchanting, but not-so-enchanting-at-this-moment-and-time "Once Upon a Dream" was playing in the background.  
  
Eileen stared at the player for a moment and gave it the finger. The power button was pressed and with it the music died. She attempted to stand up which was rewarded with an instant pain sent straight to her head and she went tumbling down. The couch softened the blow to her back and she laid there for a minute, trying to regain the courage and mental capacity to try and stand up again. On the third try, she managed to make it upstairs to her bathroom and wake herself up with cold water.  
  
The brunette looked at herself in the mirror and felt her heart break quietly. She was a mess, an absolute mess, not just on the outside, but on the inside too. She hated to see herself like this...  
  
Ell took a wet wash cloth and wiped away the mascara from her cheeks and eyes. She took her hair down and brushed it out, a little distraught to see her blonde roots were starting to show again. Eilleen Takada sighed a sigh of a defeated woman and ran her fingers through her long, long hair. Ky had made her color it brown. Ky had made her ruin her gorgeous hair, the hair she had loved and had taken such good care off. Now it was dry, dry and nappy. Of course the nappy part was all due to the fact that she hadn't bathed in a day and she had been crying and drinking for the last hour or two.  
  
Eilleen put her hair in a bun and ran herself of bath, soaking for awhile. She had lost all track of time and frankly, she didn't care. She just wanted to lose herself in the bubble and soapy world of relaxation. She wanted to lose herself and never come back. The sad part was, she always wanted to lose herself.  
  
The sad part was, she did this most every night. Wished for what she couldn't have and wished the what she did would go away.  
  
It was a never-ending cycle that was on the verge of bi-polar but really just depression. Ell was like a soul-searcher who had gotten lost in the woods, in the dark, in Maine. She wanted to be happy so bad; she wanted to have her little dysfunctional party finally end so much that she had really made it worse. Looking inside herself for the cure to the common miserable woman had only made her more miserable of a woman. Now, all she had were the bubbles to comfort her.  
  
There was a knock at the bathroom door.  
  
"Senora, the man is here. I told him to wait in the library... You want to meet him?" Senora Faladez asked.  
  
Ell looked at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall in front of her. She looked better than she had, but still, she had no desire to meet this new addition to her all ready complex life. Sleep was overcoming her and so was the alcohol. All Eileen wanted to do was close her eyes and pass out under the heavy warmth of her bed sheets and let her dreams take her to places she longed for. She ran her fingers over her long, long legs and sighed for the ump-teenth time.  
  
"No, not tonight. I'll meet him tomorrow." Ell said as she stood up and wrapped a towel around herself. Senora Faladez made a reluctant kind of grunt.  
  
"The Senor say he wants to meet you tonight. He say Senor Takada told him too." The maid said with a shakey voice. By now, Eilleen had put herself in her silk nightgown and matching robe and was slowly brushing her hair. She could almost her Ky telling the man to make sure he met her. She could even imagine the arrogance and power he had had in his voice. It was something that made her quite, quite angry.  
  
"Well," Ell said non-chalantly as she opened the bathroom door and walked out into her massive 17x16 bedroom, completely with a terrace, fireplace, and the finest furniture made this side of the universe, "I don't give a damn what he wants to do. He can spend the whole night in the library if he wants but I'm tired and I have every intention of going to sleep." She put her pearl handled brush down on her end table beside her bed.  
  
Senora Faladez gave an understanding nod and made her way out of the room. Eilleen watched as the woman closed the door gently with a smile. That was one reason while Eilleen had hired Faladez; she always smiled. And, in some ways, Ell felt that Lupe Faladez understood her better than she understood herself. Lupe always had a comforting word to give her, always had a smile when she needed one, and had more than once held her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. Ell considered Lupe a member of the family, well at least of Eilleen's real family -- the pretend family she had in her head. It was a family where she felt like she could finally be a peace. It wasn't anything like the one she had now. No, in fact, it wasn't even remotely close. God forbid anything should ever happen to her children whom she loved more than life itself, but, they weren't a part of this family. It was simply her and two other people. Two other people that she missed more than anything else...  
  
Minutes had apparently flown by while she was raptured in thought, because the door opened again and Senora Faladez was standing there.  
  
"The sir say he will no leave the library until you meet him. He say, "Tell Mrs. Takada that her husband say to meet him first thing, and that..." Faladez let her words die down. Ell looked at her with a twisted, confused expression.  
  
"And that what?" She asked. Faladez gave a forced smile and fumbled with her hands. Eilleen walked over and stood in front of the nervous maid. She looked down at her (Senora Faladez was a short woman) with the look a mother gives a child when they're hiding a secret.  
  
"And that what, Lupe?" Ell stared at the woman with a forceful gaze. Finally, the little woman sighed and looked up at her employer.  
  
"And that he could no do his job as long as you was being stupid and rude."  
  
Eilleen's mouth had fallen open and her face had grown a light shade of red. She could feel her blood pressure boiling and as she went over the sentence in her head again and again, she knew that it was about to boil over. In fact, it all ready had.  
  
Ell balled up her fists and started swearing in French. It was a habit; she always swore in French. Faladez took a step back and watched Mrs. Takada pace in circles around her room, swearing and talking to herself in a different language, waving her arms spastically around. Lupe knew that whatever explosion Mrs. Takada was fixing to have, it was going to be extreme. If it was one thing that Eilleen did not deal with very well it was insults from people she didn't even know and being told what to do. Both had pretty much occured and Faladez was afraid that Ell might shoot the messanger.  
  
And just as soon as she had started, Ell came to a dead stop. Her eyes shot to the hallway and she made her way to the door. She was furious, she was beyond furious - she was blind with a white anger that had completely taken over. Calling her stupid?! Calling her rude?! Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Stomping down the stairs she let the anger wash over her like an ocean to the sand as she made the long trudge through the east hallway. Her eyes burned with a fire that couldn't be explained. She heard the now distant shoutings of Lupe who had been hopelessly trying to call Ell off, but she didn't care. She wasn't stupid and she sure as hell wasn't rude and for anyone, ANYONE, let alone some punk-ass man in her home hired by her husband to call her that was more than a violation. It was a slap in the face, a kick in the crotch, and an all too painful realization that she just didn't want to put up with right now.  
  
She wanted blood, she wanted pain, and she wanted his head mounted on her wall. She didn't know who he was, she didn't care who he was, and she didn't really want to know. It was her house and if she wanted to wait till the morning to meet this jackass, she would. He wasn't going to tell her what to do, that wasn't his "job". Can't do his job? CAN'T DO HIS JOB? Fuck it. Tomorrow he wouldn't even have a job. He wouldn't have any balls by the time she got through with him.  
  
And she could be mean.  
  
Eilleen Takada was a gentle woman, but she had run her course in the goverment scene. She had played a part in the lie and the scandal and she could be as cunning as a snake, violent as a cougar, and as hungry for blood as a demon from the deepest darkest pits of hell. She could give looks that made grown men cry and give looks that made you feel like you were worthless. She was the queen of torture and abuse and misery and pain. Ell's whole world revolved around her own apathy and her own misgivings and pains. She knew what it took to make a man burst into tears and she knew what to say to make another one fall to his knees.  
  
Her tongue was a sharp as a knife and for three years she had been dying to try and see if she still had her killer touch. She wanted to see if she still had that fatal tact that she had not used in so long, too long. And now, standing in front of the library door, it seemed like a good a time as any to see if she had her old fire power. Who was this person to judge her? He didn't know her. When did she deserve to be crucified by him? And that's exactly what it felt like. Like he was crucifying her, hanging her out to dry. His two little insults had made her feel more worthless than anyone else ever had in her whole life. She wasn't sure why and she wasn't going to question it. All she knew was that she wanted to see him squirm; she wanted to see him beg.  
  
She pushed open the door and saw him standing with his back to her, in front of an enormous desk. There was the bastard who had made her bleed. There was the relatively tall asshole with the sandy brown hair that had made her so angry she couldn't see straight. She took a heavy sigh, mellowing herself out. She was preparing for the calm before the storm.  
  
Ell turned her back to the man and slowly started to close the door. He turned, and looked at her. She was a petite woman with long brown hair. He smiled to himself. If it's one thing that gets people running, it's an insult. Especially if they're rich and especially if they're women. And there she was, just another gullible piece of flesh. It made him sick. He was going to have to watch her, follow her every move for the next year. Wasn't that just special? He got to be Mr. Body Guard for a multi-million dollar man's anorexic brunette wife. Great fucking fun...  
  
He turned back around as Ell finished closing the door. In a moment of quick blind action, she skipped the graceful tact part and jumped straight onto full bitch mode.  
  
"What the hell gives you the ri---" And as she turned around, he turned too. And then...The world stood still.  
  
Yes, there were only two people in the family that lived in Eilleen Takada's head. The woman she once was, and the man that had loved her. And it was funny, because, things in your head are never supposed to be real... 


	5. Her Dream

Chapter Five: Her Dream...  
  
There was a frozen moment in time... She could feel it. The world had faded to black. Well, not faded to black, but, gone away. And her anger, well, that had for the most part been temporarily suspended too. Her arms felt light, and for some reason she wasn't to sure of, her chest felt heavy. Really heavy. And she was having trouble breathing. Maybe she was having an asthma attack? No, that was crazy, she didn't have asthma. No, no... It was something else. Something different, what could it be? She couldn't see anything -- it was like she was blind. She knew she wasn't but, still, she couldn't see anything at all. She just didn't understand. She didn't feel anything, she didn't have any kind of idea what was going on.   
  
She was just floating. She was engulfed in her own mind. Everything was white now, and warm. The sun was shining or at least she thought it was. Nothing seemed to matter. Nothing seemed to be important. She just floated. She could swear someone was near her, or at least around her. She could feel that -- feel some kind of presence. But she just dismissed it. She just kept floating. She wasn't sure where she was or where she was going, but she knew it was somewhere far away. And it seemed nice. It seemed fun. She wondered if this was the end... If this... This was death. If this was the bittersweet ending she had prayed for.   
  
No, it couldn't be death. She would have remembered dying. But then again, she really didn't remember anything right now. And she still felt a presence, somebody else there with her. No, she wasn't dead. Her mind wasn't clear. She didn't understand the meaning to life. She didn't see any kind of bright light either. All she saw was white. Of course, this could be Heaven. But she always had pictured it to be more than just this. This eternal white. This calming, serene white...  
  
"Oh God..." Somebody said somewhere. And in an instant, she understood everything... 


	6. His Prayer

Chapter Six: His Prayer...  
  
It was like a sign from God. But he didn't believe in God. Maybe he did now? It was amazing. It was heartbreaking. It was a miracle. It was Shakespeare. Who would have thought in a million years, that she would be here?! That should we be standing in front of him. That after all his hoping and praying and searching that she would simply, just be. Out of nowhere, out of left field. She had changed her hair, it had gotten a little longer, but it still had that same beautiful bounce, that same beautiful spirit. Just like she did.   
  
God she was beautiful.  
  
She was a sight for sore eyes. She was a vision from his dreams. She was everything and then she was more. He felt dizzy and excited and shocked and scared and angry and who knew what else. He had to put his hands on the desk. Or maybe it wasn't the desk, he didn't know. He wasn't really sure where he was or what he was doing. All he knew was that there she was. He couldn't make out anything, not her face, not her body or what she was wearing -- he just, knew. He knew everything about her. The air became silent, the world stood still, and the beauty that was his fallen angel just stood there.   
  
God she was beautiful.  
  
He felt his knees start to buckle under the pressure. The pressure of his heavy heart that was just ready to explode. Even with his years of military training, even with his ice cold demeanor and his dead-inside state of mind, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but smile on the inside. The colors in the room seemed more vibrant. The air seemed sweeter. For the first time in three years he felt alive. He felt like himself. He felt like the man he knew he could always be. The man he always was.  
  
And God, she was beautiful.  
  
He had to shake off this disillusionment. He had to shake off the pixie dust. He had to clear his mind and gain control. He was so excited he was about to start dancing or wet himself or something, he wasn't sure. His mind was racing a mile a minute. His heart was pounding five beats at a time. And then, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. And when he opened them, he saw the last thing he ever wanted to see...   
  
"Oh God..." 


	7. Their Reality

Chapter 7: Their Reality  
  
She blinked, because that's all she could do. That was all the she could feasibly do. Her mind had shutdown and her thoughts weren't her own. It was like someone had turned her off mid-sentence. Eileen had been snapped back from her pleasant dream and tossed into this cold, cruel reality and she wasn't sure how to act.  
  
And all it had taken was his voice.   
  
But of course, it wasn't it him. It couldn't be him. There was no way in hell it was him. That was over. That was done. It was nothing but a star-crossed memory in the back of her tired little mind. She was sleepy, she was angry, and she was drunk. This was just another one of her nervous breakdowns... This was just another "episode". She was cracking up; she was losing her mind. Eileen Takada was going to hell in a handbasket at mach-fucking-one. She just had to stay calm. Just had to breathe. She couldn't let the walls close in on her...   
  
The brown-haired pilot stood in disbelief. He stood in his own shocked silence, his own shattered innocence. His eyes betrayed his thoughts and his heart shattered into a thousand little shards that he would never be able to pick up. There she was, in all her pale and pungent glory. Her once beautiful hair was now brown and faded. She had lost more weight than she should. In fact, she couldn't have weighed more than 100lbs soaking wet. She had a sick, dead air about her and she was deathly pale. The worst though, were her eyes.  
  
They were empty.   
  
Not just empty, they were dead. And by taking one simple glance at this fragile creature that stood in front of him, he was grounded, he was hurt, and he was in disbelief. It couldn't be her. It wasn't her. He didn't know this woman. She was to ugly. She had lost to much... She had no life left. She was dead inside, and yet, he knew. He knew everything about her.   
  
And he knew that is was her. Heero Yuy knew that the woman standing in front of him was Relena Dorlian. And it killed him.  
  
She was shaking. Every part of her body was on fire now. Half of her wanted to believe this was a dillusion, some psychotic episode she was having from to many drinks. That it was all in her head and that the boy standing in front of her was just a figment of her imagination. That's what she wanted to believe. The other part though - that bastard part of her soul that still clung to some kind of sick dream of happiness or the past - told her lies. It told her pretty lies and that the man standing there in a black leather jacket, the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in all of her life, the most beautiful man she had ever seen in all of her days, was here, in her house. And it was all too much for Eileen Takada to bear.  
  
Pure drops of pain made their way down her cheeks as she let herself fall off the edge of a cliff she had built for herself.  
  
Eileen wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't... She couldn't. That was suicide and it was wrong. He wasn't real and she shouldn't look at the dillusions. That's what one of those doctors had said. Don't look at your dillusions because they aren't real. Which was exactly what he was - not real. Not in front of her. Not looking perfect. Not rekindling every doubt she had ever had in her mind. Not making her feel like a whore. Not making her feel worthless. And he was certainly not crushing her heart into a million pieces.  
  
Heero watched silently as she wrapped her skinny arms around her skinny waiste. The light reflected off her silk nightgown and played a mini light show of white silk against a cherry-wood door. Relena pulled her hand up to her mouth and start to chew on a nail and pace around nervously. There was something in the way she moved, a sudden urgency counter-acted by some greater fear and confusion. He watched her as she walked back and forth, back and forth, getting faster and faster and more terrified with every step she took. Until finally...  
  
"You're not real." She blurted out with tear-glazed eyes. Relena just stood there with her nail in her mouth, staring at him with such an intense pain and disbelief that Yuy had to take a step back. She was breathing hard, shaking her head back and forth. And just when he didn't think it could possibly get any worse, she started pacing again.  
  
"You're not real..." She said again, only this time it was more shrill and desperate. She was trying to convince herself of something and it wasn't working. The floor, the room, the way she was, it wasn't making sense. Nothing was making sense except the fact that nothing was making sense! The only thing she knew was that he wasn't real. He couldn't be real. He wasn't fucking real! She just had to make him go away. Just had to tell herself that he wasn't real. She... Just... Make him go...  
  
Heero narrowed his eyes in the way only a soldier could. This wasn't the woman he knew. This wasn't the girl that he... That he knew. This was some imposter. This was some demon that had taken her over and raped her everything good she had. This was some fake; a cowardly woman hiding behind a pretty face and a bottle of booze.  
  
"I'm very rea--" He said aloud.  
  
"YOU'RE NOT REAL!!" She screamed as she threw herself against the door with an ever-resounding thud.  
  
Relena Dorlian began to sob like she had never sobbed before in her entire life. It wasn't the sob of a lost love. It wasn't the sob of a dying man... It was the most pain-filled, broken cry Heero Yuy had ever heard. It was so desperate and so dark that all he could do was watch. All he could do was watch as she stood there, bleeding to death in a sea of her own relentless and persecuting emotions.  
  
The maddness was happening now. She could feel it. It was like a switch that someone had turned on, and she had no idea how to turn it off. All she could do was pound on the door and cry...   
  
"You're... You're not... Here... You're, you're... a lie..." She managed to say through this onslaught of bitter hatred for herself, of this bitter hatred for life and tears.  
  
Heero started to walk towards her.   
  
"Relena--"  
  
And it was as though hell itself had opened up and swallowed her whole...   
  
Immediately, the feel of the room changed. The whole atmosphere shifted from tragic to fatal in a moment. The brown-haired girl turned around and stared straight at Heero. She peered at him with two jealous and terrifying blue eyes; delving into the unmentionable places of his soul.   
  
There was more hate in her two eyes than anything he had ever seen. There were no more tears, just, silence. Heero had lived through wars and seen death, but nothing compared to the fire, the pain, and the utter disguist that was in her blue eyes right then, looking straight at him.   
  
"Don't you ever say that name again." She hissed with such a commanding tone that even God himself would have cowered.   
  
Yuy looked at her wondering how she had managed to stay alive. There was so much pent up anger in that one sentence, in that 5 word phrase, that it overwhelmed him and almost scared him. She stood there, her blue eyes never blinking, never waivering. They just stared at him. They inspected him. And he knew that she was searching for the one crushing blow that would send it all crashing down.   
  
It's amazing the amount of pain that one person can bear before they break. It's amazing the amount of anguish and guilt and complete hate that can build up in one person before it sends them tumbling down to the ground like a china doll. Her hair had fallen down now, and lay against her shoulders like a shawl. Yet still, no matter how hagard she looked - no matter how dead she was on the inside - there was a shread of dignity left, a faint trace of pride left in her eyes that burned brighter than all the stars in all the heavens. And as Relena Dorlian stood in front of him, for the first time in eight years, Heero Yuy was reunited with the Queen of the World, the Prime Minister, and the woman that had once held the fate of the universe in her slender hands. In that small moment that she let her guard down, her true colors had shined through with an intensity that could have made the world spin backwards: pure elegance and the ideal example of courage under fire.   
  
Of course, this was not nearly enough for Yuy to not push the envelope.  
  
"I can say whatever I wa--"  
  
"Get out of my house." She said quickly. Eileen spat the words from her mouth with a tone so distrubing and powerful it was a wonder that Yuy didn't move. He looked at her.  
  
"You know I can't do that." He said.  
  
"Get out of my house." Eileen said again, her blood boiling all the while. She didn't move, didn't blink, and didn't cry anymore. She just hated. That's all she could do, just hate. She was disguisted by him, by his audacity to just waltz into her life whenever the hell he felt like it.  
  
"I can't do that. I have a contract with your--" Heero tried to say, trying to keep his composure.  
  
"You think this is a game?" She hissed. "That you can just walk into my life whenever the hell you feel like it? That you can just come back and talk to me like we're friends?" She was getting sick to her stomach.  
  
"I signed a one year contr--" He could feel the loss of control rising in his throat.  
  
"Well we're not friends." Her tone had taken a imperialistic pitch. "We will never be friends and I'll be damned if you are going to stay in my house any longer." She spoke as though he were stupid and beneath her.  
  
"Would you just--"  
  
"I will say it again and then I'm gonna call the police." The lights from the room accented the tears the she held back, while she said it once more, with a fevered pitch and a dark growl. "Get out of my house."  
  
And that was all it took. That was all it took for Heero Yuy to walk up and grab her arms, and not in the wistful shoujo manga way. The soldier in him was released, the icy cold inflections in his voice and eyes shined through, and he grabbed her arms with such a force that she whimpered. For once in life, Eileen was genuinely scared of the last person in the world she thought she would ever have to be.   
  
But pride is a tricky thing, and it was pride that forced her expression to remain unchanged.  
  
"All right get off your fucking pedestal and listen to every word I'm gonna say." He whispered quickly and quietly and with the anger only a man could ever have."I was hired by your husband to do a job and regardless of how you feel on the subject, I'm gonna fucking do it. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore "Eileen", you're not a government lackey anymore and I'm not you whipping boy and you're right, I'm not your damn friend. I am your body guard. Where you go I go. It's how things are going to be for awhile."   
  
He stopped and took a breath, assessing the situation. He was using his tactics and skills to find the one thing that would open up her eyes. The one thing that would send her elitist ass to the ground. She needed a reality jolt, she need a slap across the face. And after a moment of chilled and pointy silence, he found it.   
  
"Besides, you're not the same person I thought I knew. You're just some rich, ugly, scared little girl who cries until she gets her way. You're not even close to what she was and you'll never be." He pushed her back and walked to the middle of the room, proud and somewhat amused with himself. It was all he could do to keep from shooting her right in the God damn head.  
  
Eileen steadied her footing as she rubbed the spot where he had held on. He had grabbed on tight; tight enough to leave bruises.   
  
A wave of emotions blind-sighted her and shock slowly set in. The man who swore he'd never hurt her, the man who swore he'd never doing anything to ever make her cry, was now doing both at the same time and he didn't even seem to care.   
  
She was scared and outraged. She was overwhelmed with grief and she was overcome with anger. She was more confused than she had ever been, but as she watched him - watched her brown-haired pilot walk to the middle ofthe room - she understood it all. She understood every morbid part of this whole sick story. There was no love, there was no hate anymore, just, a terrible, suffocating silence.   
  
He had given up.   
  
And there was nothing more to say; there was nothing more she could do. Her life from before was standing right in front of her, looking at her, and it was all to much to take. It was all too much to even think about. How could anyone who promised to protect her, who swore to take care of her... Make her feel like there was nothing good left about her? How could he have given up hope and lost his faith in her? How could he simply let her drift away into the black that surrounded them both? How could he have ever pretended; how could he have said things and words that made her feel so undeniably filled with life; how could HE now deny her what little happiness she had and give up on her?!   
  
And in a flash, in a terrible, depressing instant, she felt it... She felt what it was... To be, truly alone...  
  
She pushed her hair back behind her ears and took one last breath of air for this battle.   
  
"How dare you." Eileen whispered, filling them both with a nostalgia that was as painful as it was beautiful. Heero turned and looked at her, and for the first time since he had laid eyes on her, he saw a woman. He saw a girl, standing before him; one that he had hurt. She let the tears glide down her cheeks, and just looked at him in a quiet disbelief, a quiet reverence; a quiet pain that only a woman can ever have.   
  
"You don't know me or anything about me." She said, her voice cracking. Eileen looked away before they made definite eye contanct. She couldn't handle that. She couldn't have him looking into her eyes. She couldn't have this backstabbing son of bitch look into her eyes.   
  
"Don't bother unpacking." She shouted. "You said you were hired by my husband then fine, you'll be God damn fired by him too." And with that she threw open the door and stormed out, slamming it behind her all the while.   
  
The echo of the door resounded through the room, but the silence had returned to the library. It was silence that he recognized in all of his dreams and all of his life. Heero leaned against the desk and sighed. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and yet, it was. It made sense. He had never once thought about her. Thought about if she really wanted to be found. He did this all out of his own selfish need... His own...  
  
Heero sunk down into a red velvet chair and put his hand against his forehead. And it was all for nothing...  
  
The echo of the door resounded through the hallway, but the silence had returned to the long corridor. It was the silence that she recognized in all of her dreams and all of her life. Eileen leaned back against the door and started to cry. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and yet, it was. It made sense. She had never once told him anything. Never told him how she felt. She had put herself in this position because of her own stubborn ways... Her own stubborn...  
  
Relena Dorlian tried to make it down the hallway, but fell to the ground and the world went black. And it was all for nothing... 


	8. Sacrifices

Chapter Eight: Sacrifices  
  
It was late and Anya was more than tired, she was about ready to pass out. She had been up for twenty straight hours cleaning and working and moping. It was one of the longer days she had had in her life, but still, she wasn't ready to go to bed yet. She still had one last job to do before she could succumb to the warmth that was her cotton bedsheets. The task was small, but it couldn't wait. It had to be done now. It had to been done today. Besides, it's not like she had to be up in the morning or anything anyways. Tomorrow was Saturday, the day of the gods. The one day that Anya could actually sit on her pretty, little Russian ass and do absolutely nothing.   
  
Usually, she would spend the day bothering Yuy or hanging out with Yuy or getting drunk with Yuy, but, not anymore. Not since he left. Not since he had moved away. Of course, Anya was okay with it; she was doing all right. She wasn't crying anymore, but still, there was a part of her that was gone now; there was a part of her missing and empty and hollow. The lights, the rooms, the smells - nothing was the same now.   
  
Nothing was the same now that he was gone.  
  
But she was okay. She was coping, and it really wasn't all that bad. It was just that, she hadn't really realized how much apart of her life Yuy had really been until he had left. Must be true what they say, you don't know what you've got til it's gone. Though, he was never really her's to begin with.  
  
Maybe that was the problem? But was really was the problem? Anya was still trying to figure that out. Part of her felt like something should be wrong, that she should feel miserable, but, then again, she really didn't. She felt strangely calm and composed. Whether this was normal or not was completely unimportant, but still, she just couldn't shake this looming feeling that maybe, maybe she did do the wrong thing. Maybe she shouldn't have set up the interview. Maybe she shouldn't have...  
  
Anya sighed. Futile and pointless, that's what it all was. What's done is done and she had to go on with her life. And at any rate, she was getting more tired by the minute, and the sooner she could go to bed the better.   
  
She took the small, metal trash can that sat beside her computer desk and put it up on the table. Anya was going for her lighter and some newspaper when the phone wrang. And it was strange, but, she knew who it was before she even picked it up. She always knew. Besides, this was the call she had been waiting for. This was the call that she had been expecting from day one. From the first minute she ever had made the suggestion and made a simple phone call. Anya reached over and picked it up.  
  
"Hello?" She asked with the usual chipperness she always had in her voice.  
  
There was a silence on the other line for a moment, but she could here him breathing. And that was when she knew... That was when she knew that it was done.   
  
"Anya?" A half-flustered, half-mortified voice moaned from the other end of the line.   
  
His voice took her back. She had never realized how much she had missed him until she heard him speak. Until she heard him say her name. The shock and the mere sound of his beautiful, deep, and penetrating voice forced her to take a step back and down into a chair. It was a bittersweet feeling - bitter because she couldn't be with him and sweet because she knew that he was okay, and was, in a loose sense of the word, happy.  
  
"Yeah?" Anya answered with a short and shallow breath.   
  
Surreal, that how she would have described this moment. Beautifully surreal and yet, so terrible.   
  
Her voice was like a breath of fresh air into his lungs. She was his one true confidant, his one true friend in this tangled mess he had weaved for himself. And he wanted to tell her. He had to tell her. He had to thank her. Because of her, he was here. He had to tell her that because of her, his search was over. His mission complete, and whether or not it was going to turn out all right was still left unknown, but, still. He had to thank her. He had to explain to her how much she meant to him and how much he missed her. He had to let her know. But, he was at a loss of words...  
  
"She's... She's... Here..." Heero Yuy managed to finally say, but even that was simple and inferior. He just couldn't bring himself to say... He just...  
  
Anya felt her heart slip a little. Of course, it wasn't so bad. She knew this day would come. She always had known that it would. For a year now she had been preparing herself, mentally and emotionally, for the day when he said those two little words: "She's here".   
  
Anya could hear him on the line, his words cracking ever so slightly and his breathing labored. She had mixed emotions about the whole thing, and opted not to say anything as she set fire to a piece of newspaper and dropped it into the trash can.  
  
"I mean, it was... I turned around... And she was... She just... Was..." He said slowly, almost like he was dazed and confused.   
  
Anya sighed. "What are you talking about, Heero?" But of course she knew. How could she not? It was just easier to play the fool than it was the rocket scientist.It was just easier than pretending like she knew what the hell was going on. She heard him clear his throat on the other line and take a deep breath. She wondered if this was what he really had wanted.  
  
"Relena. Relena is Takada's wife." He said in a whisper. Anya feigned shock as she set another piece of newspaper on fire and put in the flame filled garbage can.   
  
"Are you serious?"   
  
"I, I just... Yeah, I'm serious." He said. In the background there was another ring tone. She heard him fumble around for something and wondered if he had even caught onto the fact that she had been very nonchalant about the whole thing. Never once had her tone of voice changed and never once had she asked any questions that pointed to her intrest. But of course he didn't, he was still in to much shock.  
  
"Agh, that's my cell phone." Yuy said exasperated. "I've got to go. I'll call you later."   
  
Then, there was silence.  
  
Anya listened as the dial tone went dead, and the parallel was weird. It was the end and she knew it. It was the end of everything. Heero Yuy was gone from her life forever, and with him, he took a piece of her that she wanted to get back. He took a piece of her that she had never let anyone in her entire life have. She had let him into a part of her world that few had ever seen and even fewer knew existed. He was the only person that she had ever truly trusted and now, now it was gone. Now he was gone, and the world had ended. The night had fallen and it was slowly taking her over.   
  
The pain was terrifying and it was so overwhelming that she once again had to take a step back. Not because of the shock, but, because of the realization and brutal honesty of the situation. She was once again alone. Alone in a place where she knew no one and had nothing left...   
  
But that wasn't true. She had everything left., He wasn't the sun and moon and stars. He was just a man, a man that she had grown so accustomed to. His face, his smile, and his spirit, he was just a man. He was just another pretty face in the crowd.   
  
He was just one that she had fallen hopelessly and totally in love with. And of course, she had known he would leave. She had always known he would leave. But still, it was hard. It would always be hard. It would always be a forbidden memory that she kept locked away. The memory of the boy, the boy that had taken her heart and made her feel for once like life was something worth living.  
  
There was slight pang in the back of her head that she knew wouldn't go away. It would never go away. It would always be an engulfing, awe-inspiring state of mind that she had to linger in. It was the all-consuming pain that was going to eat her alive and rip her to pieces slowly.   
  
But she had done this to herself though. Korvchek had done it all to herself, and, it really, honestly wasn't that bad. It hurt, just a little but, still, it...   
  
It honestly hurt.  
  
And as she picked up the picture of Eileen Takada from the manilla folder, she felt another little pain. It was quiet and quick, but, it brought tears to her eyes. Anya knew in heart that he was gone forever now. He had found the woman that he wanted. She had found the woman that he wanted. And as she dropped the pictures of this brown-haired woman and the investigation report that had ultimately taken Yuy away from her into the flames, it seemed that her memories went with it.   
  
"No..." Anya smiled through her tears as she watched the papers burn. "You won't." 


	9. You Always Have a Hangover the Morning A...

Nine: You Always Have a Hangover the Morning After...  
  
The sunlight was warm against her cold face and the satin sheets carressed her fair, pale skin like morning's kiss against the blades of grass outside of her window. Her hands were folded, neatly on top of the other, as she opened her eyes and slowly greeted consciousness.  
  
Her hair lay against the pillow in what looked like an intricate maze or design created by God, strands crossing strands overlapping strands and her pale blue eyes shown brightly as she lifted her soft and dainty lids with a slow and steady grace.  
  
Moments passed and finally she turned and lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. She yawned a large yawn and stretched out her legs under the white colored sheets. She ran her hands over her face, wiping away the sleep. The sun poured through her window now in a steady stream, casting away the shadows on her ivory face. She squinted and threw her hands up over her eyes. Such a bright sun for a December day, she thought.  
  
She sat up and ran her long slender fingers through her long, brown hair, letting them fall back down against her cream-colored nightgown. She leaned against her headboard and sighed as her eyes made their way around her room, looking for the clock.  
  
It was eight in the morning and the birds outside sand their song with a high-pitched ferver. She looked out her window into a beautiful morning, complete with blue skies and rolling clouds.  
  
Such a beautiful day. It was as though nothing in all the world could ruin it.  
  
And then, with the force of a lightening strike and the speed of a snake, the memories dripped back into her mind like blood from a broken vile and took her breath away.  
  
Last night...  
  
Last night hadn't been a dream. It was all very real. Every sick part of it. He was in her house, watching over her like a hawk. The king of all lies, the prince of all pain, was here, under this very roof...  
  
Eileen threw herself back down onto her pillow with eyes as wide as the Nile. Tricked. She had been tricked. This was all a cruel game that school boys play on lonesome girls, like putting spiders on their shoulders or putting worms in their drinks. It was a cruel game that she was having trouble winning, or for that matter understanding. How could anyone be so mean? To show up out of the clear, blue skies and destroy what little life she had left. Such a cruel, tricksy game they were playing on her. So very mean was the game.  
  
Little boys could be so heartless...  
  
But she was in bed.  
  
She didn't remember much after, after she had left. Eileen remembered running down what seemed to be an endless hallway, fighting back what tears were trying to escape. And then she remembered falling. Her mind simply stopping, her soul simply giving out, and with it, her lifeless, hopeless body dropping, as if in slow-motion, onto a cold and wooden floor.  
  
And she laid there. It was all she could do, just lay there. Quietly drifting away into a foggy sea of her own memories. She had laughed there, in that quiet place inside her dreams.  
  
Then she remembered her tears flowing, cooling her burning face as she cried, as though there was nothing left to live for. Those clear diamonds that soothed her blood red cheeks as she went away, into her mind where she could forever be invisible. She remembered the ruby red droplets from her nose falling against her ivory hand, staining it with every drop that fell. And she remembered how easy it was, how simple it was to drift away into her own insanity, letting time and her own maddness heal her breaking heart.  
  
And it was. Her heart was breaking. Not quickly like it use to, or like the days where she sat on the beach and thought of the path not chosen. This time, it was falling apart piece by piece, making a bigger hole as time went on. Seconds turned to minutes and the minutes slowly bled to hours until she finally gave in and let herself be consumed by the darkness.  
  
But now, she was in bed. It wasn't possible that she had made it up the stairs. She knew what she was capable of in states like that and climbing stairs was certainly not one of them. No, Lupe and some of the other houseworkers must of helped her upstairs and put her to bed.  
  
Eileen sighed heavily as she rolled over onto her side, looking at the sun- filled window pane. Somehow, now, it didn't seem as bright as it had earlier. It had been dimmed, dimmed by her own misfortune and brighter shining pain.  
  
She owed so much to Lupe and all the others, and the thought of them helping her when they had nothing to gain only added another slash to her heart. Gratitude was hard to come by these days, being replaced by the slowly creeping feeling of self-pity, a feeling that Eileen loathed more than all the wretched world and people in it. Self-pity was truly the lowest wrung on the ladder, a place where people went when they had nothing left: no pride or dignity. It was where they went when they had given up. Where they went to die...  
  
Yet, as much as it hurt, as much as the pain crushed her spirit, Eileen Takada was not ready to die.  
  
Once again, Ell sat up, only this time she swung her legs around and draped them over the edge of her bed, letting her feet touch the cold, marble floor.  
  
It seemed routine, this process of swallowing her misfortunes and getting out of bed. She would walk to her bathroom and turn on the water, just as she always did. She would pretend that the hot water actually soothed her tensions and eased her sufferings. She would walk to her closet, putting clothes over her slender and naked body living under the grand illusion that she was still the beautiful and fiery creature she was eight years ago. She would brush her hair and put on her make-up, thinking that somehow she could turn back the clock and erase the worry wrinkles the creased her brow, and then, the cycle would be complete.  
  
Routine was exactly what it was, never changing, never swaying.  
  
Now, cleaned and dressed and ready to go, she would wait for Lupe to bring up her breakfast. So she did what she always would do and pulled out her desk chair, sitting in all her beauty, staring out the window, thinking that it couldn't possibly ever get worse.  
  
Ell would let her soft elbows rest against the top of her mahogany desk, and she would wait.  
  
Sometimes, from afar, she looked like a grieving widow who was determined not to cry and was prepared to go on with her life, but needed a little time to adjust in the solitude of an empty room. Then there were sometimes when she looked like a broken angel, desperately trying to think of a way to get back home.  
  
But it was what she always did. She sat and waited, and today was no different than any other day. Ell sat in her sleevless, knee-high black dress, unaware that she had locked herself into an unbreakable pattern of mourning and hidden suicide.  
  
There was a knock on her door, but Eileen did not move.  
  
"Come in." She said lifelessly, listening for the door to open and waiting for the shuffle of Lupe's tiny feet and the clanking of silverware and plates. Eileen blinked occasionally and continued to gaze out the window. "Just put my food on the table in the corner, Lupe. I'm not hungry right now."  
  
But this time there was no clanking or the sound of tiny feet. There was the heavy footsteps of someone else, and Eileen felt two eyes burning holes into her back.  
  
He felt so strange, being in her room. Of course, it wasn't the first time, but still, after all these years. She seemed like a different person, but he knew who she really was. She was just scared, that was all. She was just nervous and a little bit crazy, but the years could do that to anyone.  
  
His heart was racing and Heero didn't know why. He shouldn't be so shaky; he was a soldier. He was a man of distinguishible character and solidity. He was cold and cool and didn't let his emotions or feelings keep him from his duties. He couldn't let them. He wouldn't let them. Relena Dorlian or not, she was still just his job, and even if his heart felt heavier from just the smell of her sweet lilac perfume, he couldn't let that get in the way. He had to remain professional. He had to remain unreadable, no matter how hard it was or would be.  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you." Yuy said coldly, but with a sincerity that only he could have. His voice was stern, but had that indescribable sympathy to it that had always sent shivers down Eileen's spine. She bit her lip and took a deep and labored breath. Whatever happened, she musn't lose her composure now.  
  
"And I certainly never meant to hurt you." He paused, as if searching for words he could not find. Heero looked down at his boots, his hand never leaving the door knob. He had waited for this moment for a thousand lifetimes, and now that it was here, he wanted it to be over and done with. For all his own torment and for his own personal hell, this, being here with her - seeing her like this - wasn't worth it. Nothing seemed worth it anymore.  
  
A voice from the back of his head screamed loud and clear: but at least you to see her. And it was true, at least he had gotten to see her, and no matter how hagard or pitiful she looked, it was better than searching for a lifetime, only to die clutching some dream of a phantom.  
  
Yuy shook of this onslaught of feelings and emotions and started again swiftly and with the suicidal tone he often took when addressing soldiers in battle. "I want you to know that if I could leave, I would. Not because I want to, and not because I hate you, but, because you asked me too."  
  
Eileen continued to stare out the window, like she was completely unaware of his prescence. The air in the room had become stale and thick with a kind of tension that couldn't be explained. There was a mixture of feelings, ranging from love to hate and back down to remorse, circulating throughout the massive bedroom, but of course, neither one would've commented on it. It was hard enough just being in the same city, let alone the same four walls.  
  
Yuy reached down into his pocket and pulled out what had kept him going for the last three years. He rolled it inbetween his fingers and looked at it with nostalgia in his bitter, burning eyes.  
  
He used to be so happy. They used to be so happy. And now... Now it was nothing but a dream, a memory lost forever in the annals of time. This light piece of metal was nothing more than a bad reminder of what he could never have, about the life that he lost.  
  
Yuy looked up at the girl in the chair. Eileen hadn't even moved. She hadn't even tried. She had thrown in the towel, forfeited the game, and he felt very, very betrayed.  
  
He stared at it, and finally, in a moment of pent-up and blind anger, he lost sight of what he had come up here for.  
  
"I just wanted to return these." He shouted with an icy chill to his voice as he threw them against her bed. Heero Yuy turned around and slammed the door so hard that is caused Eileen, who had not once turned around or made any gesture that she acknowledged him, to jump.  
  
She sat for a moment, trying to quelch the bitter taste rising up in her throat.  
  
She didn't understand. She didn't want to understand. No matter how hard she tried, he wasn't going to leave. He didn't hate her. He didn't despise her and he hadn't given up on her, but, he wasn't going to leave. It didn't matter if she went and talked to Ky. He made his contracts so air-tight that even a room full of the world's top lawyers and best judges couldn't crack it.  
  
She was just going to have to live with it. She was just going to have to live with Heero Yuy.  
  
Her courage finally came to her though, and she stood up and turned around to see what it was that he had been holding onto for such a long time. And as her pale, blue eyes saw the sunglasses lying on her bed, her stomach turned in ways unimaginable and she ran to her bathroom, throwing up all the feelings she had left in her body. 


	10. Shoes on the Tiles

Chapter Ten:  
  
Thirteen days had passed since the incident with the sunglasses. Christmas had come and gone; Eileen's children had come home and they had a relatively good time. Eileen had put on a good show. New Year's Eve seemed fun as well. She and her kids stayed up till midnight and had a toast of sparkling grape juice before they all passed out, curled up in her bed. Ky had called a few times sending his holiday greetings.  
  
Then the kids went back to school and Eileen slipped back into her depression. She moped around, stared bleakly out the window, and drank more than she should. The situation between her and Heero had only worsened. Where they thought that they could work around their problems by ignoring each other, it had only turned into a fighting match. Snide comments would fly all over the place and she would purposely embarrass him and lose him when they went out in public. They were acting like four year old little kids and Yuy was getting to his breaking point.  
  
Today was just like every other day. It was the first Tuesday of the month which meant Mrs. Takada had doctor's appointment to go to. The car was all ready out front and had been for about ten minutes. Usually she was ready to go and would come out on her own, but today, there was no sign of her.  
  
As her personal bodyguard, Yuy got stuck with being forced to make her come out of her shell, a job that he despised. She fought with him every time and every time he came closer and closer to losing it.  
  
Yuy straightened his blazer and took a deep breath as he walked through the grand foyer and made his way up the fifty-seven steps to the second floor. He turned the first of three corners, finding his way to the hallway that catered to the lady of the house.  
  
Heero took another deep breath and in a sense, regretfully knocked on the door.  
  
"Mrs. Takada." He said with his mundane tone. "The car's out front. It's Tuesday."  
  
There was a brief moment of silence.  
  
"Mrs. Taka--"  
  
"I don't care." She snapped with a bitter tone.  
  
Yuy bit his lip. Couldn't lose it now. Had to remain calm and friendly.  
  
"Mrs. Takada, you have to go to the doctor."  
  
"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?" She hissed.  
  
Okay, so the calm and friendly thing wasn't working. Yuy rolled his eyes before reaching out and jiggling the handle. It was locked.  
  
"Open the door, Mrs. Takada." He said, trying his damn hardest to keep it together.  
  
"No." She spit out. It sounded like she was drunk.  
  
"Mrs. Takada, open the door!" He said a little louder with hatred rising slowly. He jiggled the handle harder.  
  
"I said no!"  
  
"Open the God damn door!" Heero screamed as he turned the handle as hard as he could, but something kept him from breaking it.  
  
"Fuck you!" She hissed. The sound of breaking glass echoed from the other side of the door and that truly was the last straw.  
  
"You know what, fine!" Yuy shouted and it was more than obvious that he was madder than hell. "Stay in there and rot! Because I could care less about you and your damn problems! If you want to stay in there all day and sulk then go right-the-fuck ahead because I'm through! Through with you and through with your stupid fucking dramas!" He kicked the door as hard as he could, but all it did was shake.  
  
"Oh thanks! I will!" She responded with sarcasm dripping from every word.  
  
Yuy stood outside the door for a little bit, trying to soothe that burning desire he had to kick open the door and kill her... Or hold her.  
  
The lines were getting harder to distinguish between now. Love and hate, happy and sad - to understand these things you had to understand who you were, and this was something Heero was beginning to question. Had he become so hardened over the years, that now, he couldn't control that burning, that fire in his soul that hadn't been ignited since his soldier days? Did he want to beat the shit out of her, or did he want to save her? Was he ever going to get a vacation?  
  
Heero leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. He needed a cigarette.  
  
The soldier boy walked back down to the north hallway and told his coworker, Benjii Mordicai, he had talked to Mrs. Takada and that she had the intentions of staying in her room for a bit. That and that he was going on a smoke break.  
  
Benjii Mordicai was a Middle Eastern man with brown hair and the some of the most beautiful blue eyes the world had ever seen. At age twenty-nine, he was tall, dark, and handsome and seemed to have a luminous air of mystery around him. He always wore the same black suit every day to work and always smoked the same brand of cigarettes. Benjii was in charge of the telecommunications security station of the house, or if you wanted to be less technical about it, the room with all the TV monitors and those little red phones everyone knows about. Benjii had worked for Ky Takada for six years now and pretty much knew all the ropes.  
  
He was the first one to work with Heero and really the first one to "befriend" Heero, but that's assuming that Heero could make friends. Benjii was the one of the higher ranking security workmen of the house, and so was Heero. It was only logical that they had to work together. But Yuy didn't mind Benjii; he seemed like an all right guy. Not someone that he would trust, but still, an all right guy.  
  
Benjii shook his head. "Haven't even been on the job for two hours!" He said with a grin as he tapped one of the television monitors that displayed certain parts of the house and every possible place outside. Heero shrugged.  
  
"She's not going anywhere for awhile." Heero said flatly. Mordicai turned around in his chair and looked at him.  
  
"Never would have figured you for a smoker." He said as he rubbed his nose and adjusted the volume of his headset. Yuy just stared at him as if to say 'I tried to quit, but that never works'. Benjii smiled.  
  
"Go smoke your damn cancer stick." He shouted as he tossed Yuy his lighter. "And if you lose that, I'll God damn kill you."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind." The bodyguard put the lighter in his pocket and walked out of the small room. He went down yet another flight of stairs and opened a door that took him outside to the back of the house.  
  
Eileen Takada's home was, if you weren't sure before, massive. The back porch was completely done over in beautiful blue marbled tiles with pinkish colored diamonds in the middle of the squares. It scaled the entire back of the house and had huge white columns and pillars scattered everywhere to give it a distinguished and beautiful look of elegance. There was patio furniture strewn about and some potted plants added the look of fame and fortune. It truly was a gorgeous house.  
  
Heero took a seat on the white concreted steps of this elaborate Eden that she had created for herself. The sky was gray now, covered by rain clouds from the West. The wind blew his brown hair out of his eyes as he set fire to his cigarette. His blazer lay by his side and his white shirt danced in the air as another gust of wind blew against his body, setting the scene for what should be a tragic part in a movie.  
  
He sighed. This place was beautiful. In front of him was an English garden and even though the frost and winter chill had killed the flowers, it was the kind of death that left him in awe. There were weeping willows all over the place and brick pathways that led to secret gardens and a pond that lay in the middle of the property. Statues and fountains were arranged in areas to give them an added touch, and the pool that was back and to the left was fashioned to resemble an underground spring in a cavern. If you sat and tried to take it all in, you realized that this place really was an Eden.  
  
That was something he would never understand. How all this could be so beautiful on the outside, how it could be so lovely, and then, so hopeless on the inside.  
  
Yuy took a drag and let the smoke dance out of his mouth.  
  
Why was he still here? All logic would have told him to simply get up and skip the job. He could just go to another country. Hell, he could just go to another colony. And why was he still thinking about her, even after he had seen the monster that she had become? It was obvious that she was one of those people who loved being miserable. Maybe it really was all futile. To say the least, it was getting harder. Harder to speak to her, harder to look at her - it was pushing his heart to the most extreme limits, and he wondered if even he had the strength to keep going.  
  
That had been one of the worst fights they had ever been through, if not the worst. Of course, it didn't seem like a big deal. In fact, in terms of word count, it had been one of their shortest to date. But every harsh word was slowly taking its toll on both of them. They were making her more bitter and him more hateful. And this time around, they had both expressed some true feelings. He was sick of trying to make things better, and she was sick of him entirely.  
  
He use to start off the day thinking about how long it would be until he found her. Then when he found her, he started off the day by thinking about how long it would be until she came to her senses and left with him. Now, he started off the day by thinking about how long it would be until she screamed at him and slammed a door. And on the really bad days, he started off the day by thinking how nice it would be if she took one to many of her pills and just never woke up.  
  
Yuy didn't mean to think like that, but sometimes, he couldn't help it. Besides, after all, he was a soldier at heart. He had killed hundreds of people and destroyed homes. He wasn't supposed to have the heart and soul of a saint. He was a cold-blooded killer.  
  
He used to be so proud of that. The fact that no one could touch him, that no one could get inside his head or heart and make him feel some kind of human emotion. He was still a little proud of it. He could turn on that stone cold and dead inside persona with just the flip of a switch. But lately, he felt himself getting soft. Or at least, that is, until he came here.  
  
Back in San Muerte, he knew he was losing his edge, and he was okay with it. It was all for his cause. It was all for her. But now, he was beginning to wonder if that had been the wisest thing. Women were and are always the downfall of the greatest men, and he wondered if he had become a victim to that old, yet wise idea.  
  
Even if he did though, was there anyway he could get his old self back? Or was that all ready to far gone? Had he become too vulnerable? Was he too soft? What would Anya think? Why did he care what she would think? Was he really in love with Relena? Was this all for the best? What the hell was he doing here? What the hell had he been doing with his life the last couple of years? What was the point of his life? Did he even have a life? Was this all for nothing? Was this really all just for nothing?!  
  
"Aggh!" Heero screamed as he stood up and kicked over a potted plant that had been sitting next to him on the stairs. This was all so stupid and pointless! Here he was, Mr. Tough, Mr. I'm-Stronger-Than-Anybody-Else-And- Can-Do-Whatever-The-Hell-I-Want-And-Have-No-Feelings-Whatsoever, racking his brain over some woman who had never grown up! She wasn't this important! Nothing was this important!  
  
And yet, as Heero sat back down and took another drag from his cigarette, he realized, that she was. That's why he was out here. That's why he was having such a hard time. Because she was worth it. And deep down inside, regardless of what she had become, he still wanted to know her. He still wanted to be with her. And even if he had to wait a thousand lifetimes, in the end, if for just one bittersweet second she would smile at him, then he would know...  
  
That it wasn't all in vain.  
  
Heero rested his tired head against one of the white columns and sighed. If someone had told him that this was how he would spend his days, still smoking and quietly waiting for a miracle that would probably never happen, he would have laughed. But now, he just wanted to shrink away. He just wanted to fade away into the beautiful black that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Maybe then he could find some true peace. Maybe then he could find some true happiness.  
  
But what did it matter anyway? He had gotten exactly what he had asked for in all of his prayers. He had gotten to see Relena Dorlain. Isn't it funny how fate plays her jokes? She'll give you exactly what you want, but always with a twist. Just like a margarita...  
  
Heero stamped out his first cigarette and lit up another one. One of these days, these things were gonna kill him. The wind picked up and he could smell rain in the air, but that wasn't all he could smell.  
  
Heero smelled the lavender before he heard the footsteps and he felt the fabric brush up against him before he saw the dress. She sat soundlessly beside him as the wind blew again, picking up its strength. She brushed her brown hair behind her beautiful, porcelain ears and stared bleakly out into the world beyond the massive concrete steps and bricked house.  
  
Neither of them looked at each other. They just sat, content in whatever silence was engulfing them both. There was just too much to say, so much in fact that it was impossible to put into words. It seemed impossible to relay any of the feelings that took them both over and seemed to control their lives. It was as if they were on automatic pilot and they were just tagging along for the ride.  
  
What seemed like forever passed in the blink of their unwavering eyes. The marbled porch was cold to touch and her bare hands were going numb, but she didn't mind. Nothing seemed to be important as they just sat next to each other, silent as death and as beautiful as the stars. But there were no stars out now, just dark, grey clouds that watched the two and played the audience to this scene.  
  
"Let me have a hit of that." Eileen said. She wasn't mad anymore and her voice wasn't harsh or apathetic. She sounded genuinely sorry, and it was this that made him take the cigarette from his fingers and hand it to her, but never once did they exchange glances.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she breathed in the smoke and exhaled it. She did it with such grace, the same grace she did everything with. Her touch was so gentle and her spirit so calm, it was a shame that this was what life had handed her; that this was what life left her with.  
  
In the same look-less manner he had given her the cigarette, she handed it back to him. He took it, and as he lifted it to his mouth, he saw that she had left a lipstick print on the end. Heero smiled a little. She was still human after all.  
  
Eileen closed her eyes tight and took a heavy breath before she pushed the fallen strands of her hair back behind her ears once more and began to speak.  
  
"I have a problem that I cannot explain." She whispered softly, her lips forming a broken smile. She looked down at her hands, looked down at her ring. Heero watched her with stolen glances, feeling something that he couldn't understand rising in his throat.  
  
"And it's not that I hate you..." Eileen paused and took a deep breath. "Sometimes I think I do, but then I realize that, I honestly have no reason to hate you." She looked back out into her English garden.  
  
"I know you didn't mean for this to happen." She said, her voice filled with sorrow and remorse. Heero could hear the tears rising in her throat. "I know you didn't mean to find me like this. It's just that when, when you came here, it was such a shock. It made me question the foundations on which I had built my entire life."  
  
The brown haired princess took a moment and wiped away the tears that started to fall. She bit her lip and started again.  
  
"It made me question myself, and everything that I've been doing for the last eight years..." More tears began to fall as she tried to catch her breath. "And that was hard. I wanted so badly to believe that it was someone else's fault. I wanted to blame someone for it, and sadly, you were the easiest target." She sniffled and rubbed her eyes with her long and slender fingers.  
  
Heero took another drag and stared out into oblivion.  
  
She closed her eyes. "I honestly didn't think that I could live with myself, if I found out it was all lie. That it was all some fairytale that I had written in the back of my mind. That somewhere between dreams and reality, I found Hell."  
  
Eileen paused, slowly letting herself slip into the state of mind she needed to be in. Her eyes kept staring straight ahead, but in reality were staring at nowhere at all. "And, when I did figure that out, it all felt hopeless and futile and like the world was crushing me."  
  
Heero flicked his cigarette into the grass. His eyes never moving or his face never changing. Eileen couldn't fight it anymore and she let her tears fall freely now. Each tiny droplet splashed against the cold tile and left intricate designs that were as beautiful as they were depressing.  
  
"You were the one thing that I tried to forget the most, because you were always the one thing that could make see that." She looked at him with tear filled eyes and rubbed her hands through her hair. "And I thought that if I was mean enough - that if I was spiteful enough - you would hate me too and then maybe you would forget about me, so I could forget about you." Heero looked back at her, and in an instant, he felt his own heart start to crack and break underneath is stone cold chest.  
  
Eileen gave a weak smile, trying to control her spastic breathing. She took a heavy sigh, before she started crying even harder. She looked at him, and put her hands on top of his. Her blue eyes were a murky color now and pleading for a forgiveness that not even God himself could have denied.  
  
"I am so sorry for the way I have acted! I am so sorry for the things I have said to you, for the things I have done to you!" She paused, trying to regain her fragile composure. "I just didn't know how to handle it, and I still don't know how. But please," she squeezed his hand, "please forgive me and, and understand that I don't hate you, I just..." Her warm tears fell against his fingers and for a moment, Heero thought he himself was about to cry. "I'm just a weak person, who's having trouble remembering how to be strong."  
  
She pulled her hand back and wiped her eyes the best she could. Dark black lines of mascara decorated her face and Eileen looked away and tried to catch her breath. And for once in his life, Heero Yuy was having trouble breathing himself.  
  
"I just don't know what to do anymore, Heero. And even if I did, I don't think I could." She turned and looked at him, her tears stopping for the moment and her beautiful blue eyes had a life of their own. They told the tale of woman who had forgotten long ago what it was like to be alive and was just now starting to remember. Oh how Heero wanted to hold her...  
  
"Did you ever think about going back?" He asked, his voice not betraying his breaking heart.  
  
Eileen smiled as she looked back down at her hands. "All the time."  
  
"So why didn't you?" Heero asked. He watched her carefully as she raised her head and looked back out into her yard; back out into her immaculate Eden she had created for herself.  
  
"For the same reasons you kept looking for me." She looked at him and gave an apathetic smile. "I didn't want to admit that I had been wrong and that I was a failure."  
  
Heero felt a small pang in his chest. It was like a small arrow had hit its mark and was spreading through him like a poison. In ten minutes she had been able to answer the question he had been trying to answer for eight years. He wasn't sure how it made him feel, but granted, it wasn't very good.  
  
Eileen sighed and bit her lip.  
  
"But there's something that we've both got to understand." She looked at him and for some reason, he felt the need to prepare himself for a bombshell.  
  
"I'm not her." The brown haired girl said as she put her hand on her chest. Tears started welling up in her eyes again. "I'm not ever going to be her again."  
  
Heero looked away. Eileen reached out and turned his face back towards her. Her warm fingers felt so soft against his skin. She put his hand on her chest and covered it with her own.  
  
"She's dead. Relena Dorlain is dead. And the sooner we both realize that, the better off we'll be." She fought back the tears and rolled her eyes. "Because, honestly, I'm tired. I'm so tired of trying to be what I'm not."  
  
Heero felt her let his hand go, and he pulled it back to his side. Her words were like tiny razor blades, each one carving out a little piece of his flesh.  
  
He knew what she was saying was true. He had always known that. From the day he walked into this house he had known, but still, he didn't want to let go. Something wouldn't let him let go. And it was this same thinking that made him turn his ice cold glare back out to the world before them. Eileen shook her head.  
  
"I don't want to be your enemy, Heero. But that's something else you've got to accept." She fixed her eyes on him and he turned to her. She had a broken smile on her face and she gave a tired laugh.  
  
"We're not friends." Her words cut out his heart...  
  
"And we're not lovers." She paused and stared at him for a moment, before taking on a very serious tone.  
  
"We'll never be lovers." Her voice cracked slightly.  
  
Heero watched her as she stood up slowly, her long slender legs making their way up the stairs. He could tell that the lavender scent was dwindling now that she had gotten up to leave. Her high heals echoed throughout the patio as she made her way back to her room.  
  
"What makes you think we'd be lovers?" Heero shouted at her, watching her walk away.  
  
Eileen turned her head slightly to the left and looked down at the pavement. Her long brown hair draped beautifully across the shoulder of her white dress and her long slender hands dangled by her side. And with a smile that only she could see, she shook her head.  
  
"What makes you think we wouldn't?"  
  
Heero watched as she walked away. Her grace never fading, and her high heals echoing throughout the patio as she made her way back to her room, back to her own private hell. 


	11. Trying Not to Forget

Days went by and things went smoothly. Somehow, the heroes of this epic and drawn-out tale had found a way to coexist in the world without any kind of fantastic conflict. Which, considering the past, was amazing. No fights, no broken glass or other pieces of porcelain - no, they had found a way to make it work, and by making it work, a new kind of hope had instilled itself into Heero's doubting Thomas heart.  
  
In the recent weeks, nothing had been happening. Mrs. Takada went to her appointments and the occasional dinner, but all in all, life within the walls of the Takada home was peaceful and tranquil. They didn't see each other enough to actually hold a meaningful conversation, but that really hadn't had the need. Their body language alone spoke loud enough. It whispered that everything was okay. There was no need for 'I'm sorry's' anymore.  
  
Yuy had gone out and bought a guitar, amongst other things that shall remain nameless. Because, while Heero was an honorable man who was deeply in love with one woman, it was an unreturned love, and he was still a man.  
  
The guitar thing was going well. He was trying to teach himself the chords; nothing to spiritual, just another cheap parlor trick to pass the time that seemed to creep by slower and slower with every passing month.  
  
And it was March all ready.  
  
Takada had come home from time to time, but Heero had never had to see him. Ky traveled with his own pack of guards, and whenever they came, they watched over Ky and Relena. Of course, this bothered him, but lately he hadn't been one for confrontation -- nor did he want to loose his job. That in and of itself would be disastrous and probably ruin all his plans for the future, because you see, in retrospect, she had said (and I quote), "What makes you think we wouldn't?"  
  
Heero laid down on his quaint and cozy cast-iron cot, the mattress squeaking and protesting all the while. He stared at the pictures he had stapled to the ceiling. They were a lovely contrast to the pastel green color that coated everything. His floors were cherry wood and cold. His furniture was white and cast iron. His little room was actually a good sized place - a bathroom, a bedroom, a kitchen/living room for entertaining, and of course, a place to do his laundry. He would be lucky if it was bigger than 650 square feet, but it wasn't. It was probably even less.  
  
He looked at the assortment of captured memories that looked back down at him. His secret pictures that no one really knew he had. There was a picture of Anya leaning over a fence smiling down on him the way only she could, a few of places he had been to that held special meaning, a picture of pet cat he had taken care of for a year, one or two of Duo and the other guys cutting up and being stupid, a rare feat considering how some of them wouldn't know fun if it mugged them and put them in the hospital.  
  
But for all their faults (and his included) they had had some good times. Yuy's eyes fixed themselves on the picture from their favorite bar back when they still met together and went out. El Barro - that was the name of the joint they always went. And they always had fun.  
  
Of course, Heero hadn't always been happy then. This was back when Relena had been gone for two or three years. It was hard back then. It was just a temporary relief from the pain though. Beer and peanuts always make a wonderful combination for the lonely or just broken-hearted.  
  
He stood up and grabbed the photo off the ceiling and laid back down. Trowa was obviously drunk; the goofy smile of confusion and happiness went to show. His arm was draped over Wufei's back, who, even in a state of "plasterization" kept that stone-cold and solid frown on his face. Quatre just sat in a chair and smiled softly. He never drank when they went out and the group often thought about drugging his root beer with a rufie and forcing alcohol into him some way or another. Duo wasn't even looking at the camera -- his head was pointed right in the direction of some girl's ass.  
  
It brought a smile to Yuy's face, and he could almost remember it like it was yesterday.  
  
"This music is gonna fucking kill me!" Duo shouted, his eyes not missing a beat of any thing with a pair of breasts that walked by. "Back when we were kids--"  
  
"Back when we were kids even this wasn't our music!" Trowa said. His nose was starting to get a little red. "They play old stuff here. Just shut up and have another beer."  
  
Duo took another swig and a handful of pretzels while the smoke from Yuy's cigarette swirled around them. Wufei had gotten up and gone to the bathroom so he couldn't complain, but Quatre coughed violently and wafted the air with his white, white hands.  
  
"You know, Heero, second hand smoke is even worse than what you're inhaling." He said as he covered his mouth with a scarf.  
  
Heero took another drag. "Well if you die, we'll know what happened."  
  
Quatre frowned. "Your compassion overwhelms me."  
  
"And I need another drink!" Trowa broke in, raising his hand high in the air, nodding his head to the music.  
  
"Haven't you had enough yet?" Heero asked, knocking back another shot. He dropped the glass back onto the table they were sitting at and looked down at the "dance floor." There were a few pretty looking people down there that only got prettier with every drink and pretty soon, he was going to go home with one of them. Yuy looked back over at Trowa, who looked disheveled and a little bit more than drunk. "You look like a damn reindeer."  
  
Trowa put his fingers on his head and pretended they were antlers. "Mooooooooo!"  
  
The group stared at him.  
  
Duo laughed. "Reindeer do not go 'moo' you drunk bastard."  
  
Trowa took the shots off of the waitress' tray. "When you've had enough Jack they do."  
  
The pretty blonde waitress smiled. "I think you've had more than enough."  
  
He smiled back. "I'll be the judge of that."  
  
Duo leaned over towards Heero. "Yeah, either that or the shit he'll leave on his shoes in a minute." And they both laughed.  
  
"What's so funny?" Quatre asked. The braided pilot shook his head.  
  
"Ask your mommy when you're older."  
  
"Ha-ha, very funny."  
  
Duo threw back a shot. "Isn't it though?" He turned around and let his eyes follow another tightly dressed backside. He bit his fist and whimpered. "Mama Mia! I love this place!"  
  
"Aren't you married?" Quatre asked, his unhappiness shining through like a damn spotlight.  
  
Duo stared at him. "Doesn't hurt to look." Heero laughed, inebriation setting in. "Does it hurt to bang them like a Christmas drum?" They all laughed and Duo shook his head. "Cause-- because the last time, I recall-- ha... you saying that it doesn't. So, so, so I was just wondering where your fucked up morals stand."  
  
Trowa laughed so hard he started crying and hitting his fists on the table. Even Quatre giggled a little. Duo smiled and shook his head, licking his lips in a manner that showed his discomfort.  
  
"All right, all right. You win. Granted I'm not the faith-fullest of men, but-- you know, Hilde and I-- well we're just going through a rough patch."  
  
Trowa's voice got high in pitch. "A rough patch that doesn't involve sex?"  
  
They all laughed even harder. Duo bit his lip and laughed a little too.  
  
"Yeah, okay. You got me."  
  
"We so got you." Trowa said through is hysteria.  
  
"Yeah, well, you see that beautiful looking blonde on the dance floor." They all looked and Duo pointed to a stunningly gorgeous girl in a dangerously short black dress dancing dangerously close to a man she probably had never met before in her life. There was a moment of silence and respect for the work of God.  
  
"I'm gonna go get her." Duo said as he stood up.  
  
"Pssh, have fun with that." Heero said, throwing back some more Jack.  
  
"Oh believe me buddy, with the way she's moving, I'll have a lot more fun than that." Duo winked as he made his way away from the table, into the smoke filled crown, and down the dance floor. Quatre sighed.  
  
"I swear, one day, he's gonna get syphilis or crabs or something."  
  
Heero and Trowa looked over at each other, and busted out laughing. Wufei walked back over to the table and sat down.  
  
"What's so funny?" He asked, a beer in his hand.  
  
"Duo's trying to get a girl he doesn't have a chance with." Quatre explained and pointed down to the dance floor. The girl and Duo had started dancing, and given the track record of Mr. Maxwell it wouldn't be too long before they were grinding.  
  
"And get syphilis." Trowa imitated. And he and Heero started laughing again. Quatre shook his head. Wufei had apparently ignored all of them, and looked down at the two.  
  
"With her?" He asked, confusion and disbelief in his voice.  
  
Heero looked up, wiping his eyes. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
Wufei leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his import. "One word. Jailbait."  
  
A silence swept the table and the men all looked at each other and then down at Duo. The girl was hanging onto him now, their dancing getting dangerously close to foreplay if not all ready in the final stages before sweaty and apparently illegal sex. Trowa stared at the girl.  
  
"No way!" He said.  
  
Wufei shook his head. "Yes way."  
  
"Oh my God." Trowa's mouth fell open.  
  
"Somebody should go tell him!" Quatre shouted.  
  
The three Gundam pilots looked at each other and laughed hard. Quatre rolled his eyes and sighed. Of course, then he laughed. How could he not? Duo was about to have sex with a girl that could easily be seventeen or younger. That was better than an STD!  
  
Heero's cell phone started ringing. He ignored it. He was having too much fun. This was wonderful! Sure most of it was the beer and the smoke and the music, but it was fun. For once in his life, he was laying back, cutting loose -- he was being normal.  
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
He took another sip of beer. Should have turned the damn thing off. But who cares? It'll stop ringing in a minute. Nobody could want to talk to him that bad.  
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
Yuy let out a growl and then realized that his cell phone was actual ringing.  
  
He sat up from the bed quickly and put the picture down on the nightstand. He stood up and looked for it. He could hear it, but he couldn't find it. Finally, on the ninth ring, he saw it on the kitchen counter, and he grabbed at it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
There was silence on the other end of the line.  
  
"Hello?" Yuy asked, a little annoyed. No one answered and he hung up.  
  
He threw his phone down on his bed and rubbed his hands over his face. That was so long ago. He had forgotten how much he missed it. Even if he didn't admit it. Heero looked back at the picture on the bed. And as he reached down and picked it up, another smile crossed his cold face.  
  
"Jesus Christ! She's driving me crazy!" Duo screamed. He had firm grasp of his hair and was walking around in circles. Wufei and Trowa sat on the couch and Quatre came out with some tea. Heero leaned up against the fireplace and smoked a cigarette.  
  
"I mean, I really, really like her! I mean -- this could maybe be something that's something! But Jesus Christ, seventeen! Seven-fucking-teen!" He threw his hands over his face and paced around the room. Trowa looked over at Heero and stifled a smile.  
  
Duo whirled around. "And you want to know what's even worse?"  
  
Everyone looked at him.  
  
"Homecoming! I don't know what the hell she means when she talks about 'Homecoming?!' I mean what the fuck is that?!" He rubbed his lips and took a huge sip of beer.  
  
"Homecoming is a high school dan--"  
  
"I know what the Homecoming is Quatre!" Duo screamed. "I was being sarcastic to show how DIRE MY SITUATION IS!" He rubbed his eyes and face and pretty much kept abusing his face. He threw himself into a chair with a heavy thud.  
  
"She's not even old enough to drink! And I feel... dirty when I buy her beer." He stood back up. He walked around silently for a minute, letting it all sink in. And then, he lost it.  
  
"SHE'S BARELY OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE!!" He screamed as he jumped up and down and threw his arms around in any God-given way possible. Heero stood up and prepared himself for anything drastic that might have to occur.  
  
"And she keeps teasing me with her, her, her body and her eyes and her legs!" Maxwell shook his head. "Doesn't she see it's not right?! Or at least... Not now!" He sunk into a heap back into the chair. He bit his lip and stared at the floor.  
  
"What am I going to do?" He asked, his eyes red and obviously tired.  
  
"You can always try dumping her." Wufei said as he took a sip of tea.  
  
"But I like her."  
  
"But it's illegal," Heero walked over to the window, "you stupid bastard."  
  
"So, okay, why don't you just keep going out with her behind your wife's back until you can't stand anything anymore and just go jump off of the Waxman-Neiman Center?" Quatre proposed as he took a sip of tea. Duo stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"What?" Quatre looked around. "Joke!"  
  
"At any rate, Quatre is right. Why aren't you so worried about Hilde?" Trowa asked.  
  
Duo looked down at his hands, a kind of sadder silence coming over him. He looked up and bit his lip. "Because she's off with her boyfriend right now." He paused. "She's been with him for about a year now."  
  
Everyone got quiet, and everyone understood. One infidelity for another.  
  
"I'm sorry." Trowa said.  
  
Duo shook his head. "Why? It's not your fault, unless you're fucking her too."  
  
Trowa laughed weakly. "No."  
  
Duo sniffled a little. He was tired and confused and had a hangover from hell. He rubbed his lips and sighed. And in a weird way and for no comprehendible reason, they all felt bad for him.  
  
Maxwell faked a smile and stood up.  
  
"All right, well, I'm gonna go. I gotta figure out what the hell I'm gonna do about my wife, my girlfriend, and my life."  
  
Heero looked over at him. "Did you just call her your girlfriend?"  
  
Maxwell looked back. He gave a little laugh. "I guess I did." There was a bit of pause - a moment of epiphany. His cell phone went off. "Excuse me."  
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
Heero looked away from the photo and over at his phone.  
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
He reached down and picked it up again.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Who is this?" He asked, starting to get angry.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Fine. Don't call back then, Asshole!"  
  
He slid his phone into his pocket. If it was one thing he hated it was someone calling you and hanging up, or not talking to you at all. It was either a prank or something deeper, but right now Yuy didn't care. He was just tired and hungry and wrapped up in the essence of memories.  
  
Heero looked down at his watch and saw that he was late for work. In what could be described as a lackluster display of all emotions, he reached for his blazer and his gun, putting them both on before walking out the door.  
  
He let out a sigh as he locked the door behind him and made his way down the hallway to his office. He wondered how they were all doing. Somewhere along the line he had heard that Hilde and Duo had finally gotten a divorce. He wasn't surprised. From the day they announced it, he knew it wouldn't last. Besides, Duo had seemed to really care for Celeste or Celena or whatever her name was. She was probably about twenty-two now. He wondered if they were still together.  
  
The hallway blurred in with the floor and the ceiling as he opened and walked in. Benjii had a set of headphones on and nodding his head to the beat of the music. Yuy tapped him on the shoulder and he spun round in his chair. Benjii smiled as he slid the headphones around his neck, some rock music blaring indistinctively.  
  
"Oh hey, dude. The little lady wants to see you. Said to go on up." He pointed to the door. Heero rubbed his forehead.  
  
"She seem pissed?"  
  
"Should she?"  
  
Heero shook his head. "I don't think I can deal with a migraine today."  
  
Benjii smiled. "Nah man, she seemed cool."  
  
"Good."  
  
Heero walked out the door and left Benjii to his rock and roll... And the soap opera he was secretly watching on the small screen in the desk. He took a right and headed down the hallway once more. The carpet in the security and servant wing was red and the walls were cheap paneling. There were stupid pictures of hunting parties and paintings of people doing unimportant things gracing the walls.  
  
Heero pushed open the door to the main part of the house and walked out into the main foyer, up the magnificent stairs, and down the first of many long hallways to Mrs. Takada's room. He came upon the door and in an act of unofficial bravery knocked.  
  
"Who is it?" A voice asked from behind the wood.  
  
"You asked to see me." He replied, calmly and respectively. Just being this close to her though gave him butterflies in his all ready weak stomach, and he wasn't even inside the door yet.  
  
"Oh! Come on in!" And with that, Yuy opened the door.  
  
She was standing there, putting things into a suitcase quickly and neatly, her brown hair pulled back in a makeshift ponytail. She had on a white dress with thin straps that held it up its cotton material. Her soft cream colored skin glowed under the sunlight from the windows, and she smiled when he came in.  
  
"How are you, Heero?" She asked, putting the skirt she was folding down on the bed and giving her undivided attention to him. He felt his heart warm a little bit, but he didn't give it away.  
  
"Fine. And yourself?" He asked.  
  
She smiled a little and swept a piece of fallen hair from her face. "Fine."  
  
A second or two passed and they just stood there, him admiring her beauty, her grace, and finesse, the way her porcelain face and pink lips formed a poem that he would remember and recite to himself for ever. I love you. That's all the poem would say, and that's all it would ever be. I love you; the one I want to be with will always be you.  
  
Relena shook her head and pulled herself out of whatever daze she was in, getting back on topic.  
  
"Tomorrow I need to go to Cairo. Ky wants me to come out for a little while, so, if you could please, have a car ready by seven in the morning." The way she said it was more or a request than it was a command, which Heero found strange for some reason. And what was more, she was unusually chipper and happy today. Something must have happened - something good. He looked over her shoulder and saw multiple papers and an open letter on her bed.  
  
"Also, you might want to pack something warm. Cairo is quite hot, even in the spring." She gave him a weak smile and walked back over to her clothes and started folding them again. He watched her for a moment. Then she remembered something.  
  
"Oh! And if you could have a car ready for me tonight at eight; I'm going out to dinner with some friends of mine."  
  
"Of course." Heero said, his eyes never leaving her. She smiled and gave an approving nod.  
  
"Thank you. That's all."  
  
He sighed, turned, and with a heavy heart, walked out of her room. On his way back down to the security room, his cell phone rang again. He grabbed at it and flipped it open, expecting and hoping to hear the pleasant voice of the one person he hadn't talked to in two months. "Hello?" He said as he made his way down the stairs. But of course, there was no answer. He pulled the phone away from his hear and checked the ID. The call was blocked. Yuy bit the inside of his cheek. He put the phone back up to his ear.  
  
"Who is this?" He asked, but for some reason, he couldn't get mad. He wanted to. He wanted to get really angry and scream and shout and scare the hell out of whoever it was that kept calling him, but he just couldn't. He was just too happy to care.  
  
"Hello?" He said in one last final attempt before he hung up and turned off his cell phone for the day. His voice came over the line and sounded so wonderful. He sounded happier than last time; he sounded happier in general. Just hearing his voice though, was enough. "Look, don't call if you don't want to talk. Okay?"  
  
She pressed the phone to her ear. She mouthed okay and gave a weak smile. She couldn't help it. She didn't have the courage to talk to him. Besides, she didn't want him to know it was her. It seemed wrong to keep calling him like this, but still, she had to. It was the only way she could keep it together. She missed him so bad.  
  
She heard footsteps coming out of the bathroom and threw the phone back down on the receiver.  
  
Heero heard a strong click and looked down at his phone. He thought about hitting the redial, but let it slide, and went back to making preparations for tomorrow.  
  
The man with brown hair looked over at her. "Who was on the phone?" He asked, rubbing his hair with a towel.  
  
"I was just trying to call a friend of mine."  
  
He came up and jumped onto the bed and laid down beside her. She gave a sad smile and gave in, letting him curl up around her. He smelled clean, so at least that was a plus.  
  
"I love you, Anya." He buried his face into her neck and hugged her tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair.  
  
"I love you too, Luka."  
  
Immediately after saying this, Anya realized that it actually might be true. 


	12. The Calm Before The Storm

The wind was abnormally strong and the sky abnormally grey as seven o'clock came round. Her bags had been loaded into the car as well as his things into a separate one. No one said a word all morning, nor did they speak when she walked out of the house, clad in a trench coat, looking more stunning than Lucifer himself when he graced the halls of Heaven.  
  
Dignified and graceful, she walked down the stairs, never looking at anyone, just staring straight ahead.  
  
This was how it was and this was how it always had been. They all knew why she went, regardless of how dressed up and eloquent she tried to make it. She was more like a call-girl than a wife, and more like a call-girl than a prostitute.  
  
Her black high heals clacked against the cement as she reached the bottom and in one swift and pretty motion, she entered the car and the shut the door.  
  
Heero followed down the stairs and took his place up front, next to the driver in Ell's car. Two other men got into a car behind them and with a turn of the key, motors came on and they were off to what would be a defining moment in their lives. They could tell it. They could feel it. They were being thrust into each other's worlds and being forced to deal with it as such.  
  
There was something in the air. Heero could smell it. It was something stronger than desire, something more potent than lust - it was fate. For some unexplainable reason, all the events of the last three months had seemed to build up to this. He was going to spend a four days in the middle of what he had vowed to break-up. And of course, it didn't feel right. There was a looming feeling of anticipation and fear, but he couldn't shake the idea that this was important. Somehow, this was going to be climax. But why so early on?  
  
He rewound the tape in his mind and tried to review it all.  
  
After he hung up on the mystery caller, he went back to work. Nothing special, Relena wasn't going anywhere for awhile. He took a seat behind his "desk" and looked over various newspaper clippings and articles about the Takadas. There was mail thrown everywhere. Death threat and terrorist threat warnings were taped on the wall behind him. The ones with red x's on them were the ones that had been stopped, the ones with blue x's were the ones that never happened, and the ones with a yellow star were ones that were supposed to happen soon. Not surprising that there was only one yellow, three blues, and fourteen reds.  
  
Yuy took out some forms and filled out paper work, reviewing files and reports that had to do with the Takada Empire. Even though he was officially only assigned to protect Mrs. Takada, he had taken it upon himself to secure the entire house and other properties belonging to the family.  
  
The Takadas, as well as the Williams, Muers, and Penningtons, were as loved as much as they were hated. Revolutionizing the world with new technology, building offices and plants where parks and residential areas once had been - things do eventually add up, and for every good there is a bad. Hundreds of organizations protested against PTWM, and hundreds of people wanted to kill them.  
  
Heero looked over pictures of people who had been apprehended for trying to cause some kind of harm to the family. Black and white police copies and color copies from personal investigations flooded his mind and eyes. They looked so normal. They looked average, everyday, and ordinary. Yet, they were radicals, radicals willing to kill one man so a tree could live or a duck could take a crap in a pond.  
  
He sighed. Life was as strange as it was beautiful. Or rather, life was as strange as it was grotesque. He put the photos away. Besides, he wasn't sure; a lot of it depended on his mood.  
  
Hours passed, and once he had finished all his work, Benjii looked over at him and slid his headphones down around his neck. He popped some candy or something in his mouth. "So what'd the misses want from your white ass?"  
  
Heero kept looking down at his work. "Is that a subtle hint that I need a tan, Ben, or are you making some kind of racist remark that doesn't make any sense seeing as how I'm Asian?"  
  
"How about we call it both?" Benjii flipped a switch and adjusted a camera angle for a device in the garden.  
  
"Takada's asked her to go to Cairo. So, she wants a car ready by seven and off we go to the magical land of scorpions, cactus, and sand." He wrote something down. "My favorite place in the whole world."  
  
Benjii laughed. "Almost everything out there can kill you. Even Takada."  
  
"Especially Takada." Heero agreed. He leaned back in his desk chair and sighed. "I'm really not looking forward to this trip."  
  
Benjii typed something onto his computer and adjusted the radio frequency on his walkie-talkie. "Moses, you and Aussie check out the wall line over in South B5. It's either a glitch in the computer or maybe the camera, but it looks like there's a hole in the wall and I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't there about five minutes ago."  
  
"Copy that. Sector 7 over and out." A voice said through the speakers.  
  
"Base, over and out." Benjii spun back around in his chair. "Don't dread it Yuy, think of it, as an exotic vacation adventure! You don't know what's going to happen next, but you do know that it might kill you!"  
  
He wheeled his chair in front of Yuy's desk. Heero wondered if he knew how true his last statement had been. He was walking into the belly of the beast, and chances are, it would scar him for life.  
  
Yuy stared off into space for a minute, thinking about the turnouts and letdowns this trip was going to have, wondering whether or not he could actually make it through. A red light came on back over at Benjii's station, and he wheeled himself back over. Eventually, he turned on the radio and shouted orders back and forth; typing stuff on his computer and checking camera coordinates. Yuy didn't care. He just wanted to go back home... Back to San Muerte.  
  
Ten minutes drifted by and Ben looked back over at Heero. "So you and the Misses, heading out to Cairo."  
  
Heero rubbed his hands over his faces and eyes and sighed heavy. "Takada wants her out there, so I guess so."  
  
Ben gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Man, I wish I had a set-up like that. I get a stiffy, my wife will fly four thousand miles for me." He looked at Yuy. "I'd be one of the happiest men alive."  
  
Heero bit his tongue. "Something like that."  
  
"I mean that's really the only reason he ever calls her." Ben paused, as if searching for the right words, but not really. "A free piece. Plus, she isn't a messy investment like his hot-to-trot, once-a-week girls." He shook his head and messed around with a monitor. "No Sir. Eileen is his wife and there isn't a scandal in that."  
  
Heero stopped and looked over at him. For some reason, he was confused and a thought that had never occurred to him suddenly did. "What do you mean once-a-week girls?"  
  
Ben spun around and gave him the oh-my-God look. "Oh come on. Don't act like you don't know." He half expected it to be some kind of joke, and when Heero's facial expression didn't change, he was in shock. He tapped his fingers on the desk and stared at Yuy. "If you had all that money and lived four thousand miles from your wife, you really think you'd stay all nice and faithful?"  
  
Heero blinked. "Maybe."  
  
"Yeah, maybe my ass." Ben rolled his eyes and went back to work. "You'd have the finest money can buy, and I'm not talking about cars either."  
  
A minute of brutal realization seemed to creep by in an hour, and for once, Heero was shocked. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. Takada was a man. Heero was a man. Heero knew what it was like to be a man. He knew how hard it was to stay away from the most basic of needs and simplest of urges.  
  
Yuy shook his head and felt sick to his stomach. He had to get out of this room, out of this house, and get some fresh air. He stood up and walked over to the door. Ben turned around and looked at him.  
  
"You okay?" He asked, somewhat worried, mostly being polite.  
  
"Yeah I'm fine. I just need to make a phone call." Heero looked up at one of the monitors. "Keep an eye on her for me, will yeah?"  
  
Ben looked up and saw Mrs. Takada walking down to the kitchen to get some lunch.  
  
Yuy walked out of the room very quickly and headed down the hallway. When he made it halfway, he started to jog, and when he almost go to the end, he broke into a full-fledged run. He threw open the door that led to the backyard and ran as fast as he could to the grass. Vomit went everywhere on the ground in front of him.  
  
He spit whatever residue and taste was left in his mouth out, and stood there. His hands rested firmly on his hips and his tie blew in the March wind.  
  
He was cheating on her! He was using her! He didn't care about her! All he wanted was a free piece, a no scandal kind of sex that everyman can have legally - sex with his wife. And he was going to get it too. And that made Yuy mad. It made him more than mad - it made him furious. He could feel the hatred bubbling up in his system; he could feel his chords snapping one by one by one. He could see the colors fading to red and the skies turning black and he could feel that cold, dead personification of the man he had once been trying to get inside his skin once more and take him over. And as much as he wanted to let it in, he had to fight it. He had to fight it, or all would be lost. She would be lost. Everything he had worked for, would be gone in the blink of one jealous eye.  
  
Yuy tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't go away. He felt dirty and sick and angry. He felt like the soldier who had died so many years ago. But more importantly, he felt hurt and vulnerable and human. He felt the bitter stab of jealously cut him open and let him bleed out, his heart lying on his sleeve for the world to see. He knew Benjii was watching him on the camera right now, probably wondering what in the hell was going on. He had to fake it! He had to pull out his phone! He had to call someone... Who to call, though? Who to call.  
  
And then it hit him - Anya! He hadn't been able to talk to her in a long while. They had both been so busy they had barely had a chance to even think about each other. Now he remembered, and now he missed her. Besides, she would know what to do! She would know what to say! She always did.  
  
He pulled out his silver phone and dialed the number that he knew by heart. The beeps echoed in his ear and he pushed the phone up against his face, letting the rings go by. No one answered, and he began to hang up when he heard the ever familiar voice of an ever lovely girl.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Heero pulled the phone back up. "Anya?"  
  
"Oh! Yuy! Listen, I can't talk right now!" She said quickly, her accent making it a little hard to understand.  
  
"I call you for the first time in a month and you can't talk?" He said, a little hurt about her indifference to the whole thing.  
  
"That's right, and I have to go now, ya?" Anya was rushing him off the phone, he could tell. Which only meant one thing. She either had company or was trying to bake something.  
  
"What," he said, "you got a life now?"  
  
"Heero." He heard her sigh. "I have company."  
  
Bingo.  
  
"Oh really? Who?" Heero took a seat on the steps of the back porch. He wasn't ready to stop hearing her voice quite yet, no matter how pissed she got.  
  
He could hear her talking to someone in the background. "You wouldn't know him." And he could have sworn there was a hint of worry and paranoia in her voice.  
  
"Try me." Heero commanded.  
  
"I'm hanging up now, Heero." She said, her voice determined and strong. "Call me later if you want."  
  
And then, she hung up.  
  
Anya Korvchek hung up on him. His 'best friend', his 'Russian' hung up on him. And not just any hang-up mind you, she hung up on him for another man. For another guy. For another person sitting on her couch and telling stupid jokes and getting skunk-ass drunk with her! That's who she hung up with him for! Someone else that wasn't him.  
  
Suddenly, Heero felt very sad. And very hungry.  
  
He slid his phone back down into his pocket and looked down at his feet. Somehow, his life had become a complete blur. He didn't even understand himself anymore. He was jealous and caddy. He was selfish and emotional. Maybe that was his problem. He was becoming emotional.  
  
He wasn't used to this. Caring about other people wasn't he scene. For sixteen years of his life all he did was kill people. He didn't care about them. He never had a reason to. But now here he was, almost ten years later, and he hardly recognized himself. Thinking crazy things and trying to be something he wasn't. An honest, open man.  
  
Not anymore though. He was done. He was tired, and he was done. God only knows how badly he wanted it all to make sense, but here and now, he came to the conclusion that it never would. Yuy didn't want to spend the rest of his life in some kind of warped dream either. He didn't want to sacrifice himself for the answers to the questions that weren't really at that important anyway. In the end, it boiled down to the simplest of facts. Either it is, or it isn't. There is no medium. There is no in between. What's more, is there was no questioning it, because it was absolute and infallible.  
  
In the end, she was either going to love him or she wasn't. So there was no sense in him worrying about it constantly, lying awake in bed at night.  
  
Heero pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  
  
He rolled down the car window and gave up on the whole remembering thing. All he could do was know that this was important and as they pulled up to the airport, the feelings that he had inside him only doubled, and he felt like maybe he should have just stayed home that day in December.  
  
Yuy got out of the car and tossed the cigarette onto the floor, stamping it out with his shoe. He put on a pair of sunglasses he had purchased from the local grocery store. (You can't beat a five dollar pair of shades.) He pulled open the door for Mrs. Takada and the first thing to emerge was her beautifully sculpted and slender legs, followed by her perfect hips, stomach, chest, and lips. She threw her hand over her face to block the sun, and then looked up at Heero.  
  
"Thank you." She whispered.  
  
"Your welcome."  
  
And they didn't move. They just stood there, staring into each other's eyes. The wind blew and her perfume once again drifted into his nose, and he was overcome with something that he would never be able to understand.  
  
He could feel her inside of him, her warmth and her soul delving into whatever it was that made him tick. She touched him, caressed him, loved him, all without even moving. Or at least, in his mind she had.  
  
They didn't smile. They didn't look like they were happy. They both knew they weren't. They both wanted something couldn't have, and that was nothing to be happy about.  
  
Someone called her name, and she turned around.  
  
Heero blinked hard underneath his sunglasses. He took a step back and put his hand on his gun, making sure it was still there even though he knew it was. He took a much need breath of cool air and prayed to God his pants were loose enough not to betray whatever male handicap God have given him.  
  
She turned back around and watched him for a moment. He was off in his own little world and looked a little nervous, maybe even flustered. She gave a smile. She had promised herself she wasn't going to let this be more than a friendship, and she was damn sure she was going to keep it. She walked up behind him.  
  
"You ready?" She asked, her brown hair flowing in the wind. She had a devilishly sexy grin on her face and her felt his heart doing summersaults over itself.  
  
He tried to regain some kind of control. "If you are Mrs. Takada."  
  
She gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. "Come on then."  
  
The two other bodyguards came up behind them and slowly the four made their way through the local airport. The Takadas owned their own jet, and the nice people at the airport, for a nice a price, were more than willing to keep it for them while they had their own runway built.  
  
They, of course, made it through the crowd without any kind of incident, and made it out onto the runway as planned. Ell had been walking side by side with Heero and that made him feel very, very good about himself.  
  
The plane was bordered safely, and the group of travelers took their seats and prepared for take-off. Mrs. Takada took her seat next to the window and Yuy and the others followed suit, sitting behind her a few rows back. Of course, he wanted to sit next to her, but that was out of the question.  
  
He took his seat and put on his seat belt, looking out the window, waiting for the plane to take off. Things weren't all that bad. So far so good and so good so far, but then again, they hadn't really even begun the trip, so that wasn't much comfort. Something else that was bothering him was the way Anya had dismissed him so quickly. He knew Anya and he knew she would never do that, not to him anyway. They had been through a lot, but she always gave him common courtesy and the luxury of a talk.  
  
There was just so much information and emotion coursing through his brain that he felt like he was going to explode. He closed his eyes and let it out in a breath of air. Thoughts were ringing in his head non-stop. Maybe he should just move away and change his name. Start over completely. No one would know him. Not about his past, about who he is or what he did. There wouldn't be any Russian women who throw you mixed signals and there wouldn't be any married women who stole your heart.  
  
No. Things would be much simpler wherever it was he was going to go to. He closed his eyes. There would be a sun shining all day and the clearest sky at night. The air would only bring the sweet scent of flowers from the west, and lilacs would grow on the hills. It would be a rolling sea of purple and it would take your breath away. There are weeping willow trees everywhere to provide shade when you're tired and want to take a nap, and a pond in the middle of a beautiful valley that is so crystal clear you can see straight to the bottom.  
  
He would have one special spot, right on top of a little hill, where the biggest of the willows stands. He would sit there reading whatever literature he was interested in at the time. The wind would blow and he would feel happy. He would hear her in the distance. She would call his name and he would look up, her hair and her clothing flowing in the wind. She would wave to him and he would wave back, and she would run to him. He would catch her halfway and they would stand there, wrapped in the warmest of embraces, before she ran off into the fields of lilac. And he would chase her, and when he caught her, they would kiss, and then make love under the pure, innocent sky. And he would be truly happy.  
  
Under the blankets, they would fall asleep in the flowers and awake just in time to see the stars, shining as if they were made only for them. Then they would make love again, and fall asleep in each others arms, completely content in their simplicity.  
  
"Heero..." Someone said, softly. He would look down at her and find her smiling up at him.  
  
"Heero." He heard it again, but this time she hadn't said it, it came from somewhere else. From someone else.  
  
"Heero!"  
  
His eyes flew open and he came face to face with the woman of his dreams. She looked at him, a smile of perfect grace an elegance across her soft, beautiful lips. He didn't know how long she had been there; he hoped she hadn't watched him sleep. He was embarrassed by it for some reason. Maybe because he had dreamed of her?  
  
"Good dream?" She asked. He looked up at her. "Or deep sleeper?"  
  
He took a moment and gazed into her eyes. They were so blue... Just like his sky.  
  
"Both." He said, quite amused.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry to wake you, but, we're here." She pointed outside the window, and sure enough, they were in Cairo. He could tell by the barren- wasteland look.  
  
"Fantastic. I've always wanted to see the sand in the spring." He mused as he stood up. She moved out of his way, letting him go first, and following diligently behind. They walked down the stairway onto the runnway for the planes and he swore he could feel her breath on the back of his neck.  
  
"What did you dream about?" She whispered to him, so only he could hear. Yuy was caught off guard and felt himself get flustered. Why did she want to know? Why was she suddenly so interested in him?  
  
"What does it matter?" He whispered back. "It's over now."  
  
"And do you blame me?" She asked as they made they're way to the ground.  
  
"All dreams have to end, regardless of who's to blame."  
  
"That's not true. Some dreams can go on forever."  
  
He stopped and turned and faced her. He had heard someone say that once before, and in the same way. He knew what someone meant when they said that, and it shook him in such a way that he felt a tremor of fear rise up his throat.  
  
Heero peered at her. "No." He commanded. "They can't."  
  
They stared at each other, in a lockdown of probing and searching. Both looking for something, anything, to cling to for survival. And with every glance they seemed to take these days, the tension was winding itself tighter and tighter, and Heero wondered when it was going to break.  
  
"Ell!' Someone shouted from the ground and the two came out of their trance and both looked.  
  
There was a handsome man with jet black hair in a black suit walking towards the stairs. He was muscular, obviously very successful, and in his mid-twenties. Yuy felt the pang of bitter jealously stab him in the back as Relena slid past him and down the stairs.  
  
She ran up and threw herself into the arms of the man, and that was when Yuy knew.  
  
This was the trip from Hell. It was the climax because it was THE climax. This was the trip that would determine whether it was worth it or not, whether she was worth it or not. And as she kissed her husband passionately, Heero seriously began to doubt it.  
  
The arms of another man are nothing to be taken lightly, especially if you are the other man, and Yuy felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into a place he didn't want to be. A place he didn't want to go to again. It was always lonely there and cold and silent. He didn't want to go back there.  
  
He just wanted to be okay. He just wanted to be able to breathe. He just wanted her to stop kissing him. He just wanted her to love him the way he loved her. Without limits and without regards. But, now, it didn't seem like she ever would. And it broke Yuy's heart. 


	13. Short Little Car Rides

Chapter Thirteen:  
  
Heero helped load the luggage into the cars and out of the corner of his eye he watched as the petted each other and kissed and crooned like they were freaking livestock. He grunted. They looked so stupid.  
  
Static in his ear piece turned to words and he spouted off some command to his wrist. Mickey, one of the body guards, came up and asked his a question. Of course, he didn't care. He gave him an answer and tried to ignore the laughing and the cooing that was coming from somewhere in the general direction of the left of him.  
  
He wasn't going to turn. He wasn't going to look. They could do what they want. He didn't care.  
  
"Load 'em up. We're getting out of here." Heero spoke into the microphone in his wrist cuff. And with a really, really deep breath, he turned.  
  
And as his body made the 180 degrees rotation, he felt his attitude - his whole being - become what he was going to have to be for the rest of the trip. His hair blew in slow motion, and if it had been a movie, he would have walked in slow motion too - a rock song playing in the background.  
  
Cause I am, a pretty piece of flesh I am.  
  
They stood there holding each other and he didn't care.  
  
A pretty piece of flesh I am.  
  
His tie blew up against his shoulder while the sun reflected off his glasses and the clouds danced on the lenses. He walked up to them, and they both turned. Mr. Takada smiled but Ell peered at him for a moment. Apparently Yuy wasn't the only one who noticed a change.  
  
Oh, a pretty piece of flesh I am.  
  
"We're ready to go, Sir." His voice was flat.  
  
Takada looked down at this wife, whose eyes had not yet left the stone cold pillar of a man who stood in front of them.  
  
"You heard the man, dear. Your chariot awaits." Ky motioned the way with his hands and he walked towards the limo that was over in the distance.  
  
Ell kept her steady stare at Yuy and vice versa. He blinked under his glasses.  
  
"Well you heard him. Your chariot awaits." The mockery and bitter anger danced all around her as her the gap between her two lips got wider and wider. Heero turned from her and walked back towards the car.  
  
What the hell was that about? But of course she all ready knew. Eileen sighed and tried to close her shock-filled mouth. Somehow, she had known, bringing him had been a mistake. The wind blew her hair all around her while the sound of engines whirled up above and planes blotted out the sun.  
  
Ky waved at her and shouted her name, but she didn't hear him.  
  
The woman looked down at her hand; the gold glistened in the sunlight like a thousand shining stars and her eyes found their way back up to him. In all of her life, there were few things she had ever thought about every waking moment of every day. He looked back at her.  
  
"Are you coming?" He asked, and she knew that it hurt him more than he would ever show.  
  
Her white cotton dress blew back against her body and she felt a chill run up her spine. Somewhere in the background of her mind, someone was playing a song she knew all to well on the piano. And as her feet moved slowly, one out in front of the other, she made her way to him and they walked to the car together.  
  
Heero opened the door and she gave him a weak smile, only to have it returned with solid silence.  
  
Sliding into the back seat with her husband, she had to admit, he was extremely handsome. His black hair was disheveled, but, in a style that made him look professional and he had always looked gorgeous in a suit. Ky smiled at her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.  
  
"God, I've missed you." He whispered in her ear.  
  
If there was ever a person who could throw mixed signals and confuse herself, it was Ell Takada. One minute she loved him, the next second she hated him. She didn't want to be alone, which she was when Ky wasn't there, but, when he was, it didn't feel right. She loved him, but she hated him. She hated him, but loved him and now, she was more confused than she had ever been - especially with Heero here.  
  
"Me too." She said with a faked smile. She looked back out the window and watched as he got into a different car.  
  
Motors started and they pulled away from the private runway.  
  
He kissed her neck and she felt his hands sliding down to places they hadn't been in a while. She crossed her legs, but returned the kiss. When she pulled away, he came back and this time his hands found themselves on her chest.  
  
"Ky." She said, but he kept kissing her neck and now her ear.  
  
"Ky." She tried pushing him away but he must have thought it was a game because he didn't stop.  
  
"Ky, stop it." He kissed her lips and she pulled back.  
  
"Ky, would you- would you just." Both her hands found their way to his chest and she pushed back with all the strength she had. "Would you stop it!" She shouted. "I haven't even been in the car for five minutes and you're all ready all over me like a randy teenager!"  
  
He sunk into the other side of the limo and rubbed his hands over his face. Red lipstick stained the edges of his mouth making him look reminiscent of a clown at a birthday party.  
  
"I'm sorry! It's just, I haven't even seen you in two months and you just look so beautiful." He leaned back over and tried to kiss her. She pushed him with a resounding thud back to the other side of the car.  
  
"Yeah well, I'm glad you're so happy to see me, but I'd much rather talk to you before you get all sweaty and ready to go!"  
  
Ell readjusted the straps of her dress while she peered at him. He looked back at her, almost in shock at the proposal. Or maybe it was this new willingness to fight. He shook his head a little and the rubbed his lips.  
  
"Okay, talk. Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?"  
  
***  
  
He quickly and nervously tapped his fingers against the window. This was going to be the trip from Hell. Who was he kidding?! It all ready was the trip from Hell. Seeing them kiss like that, good God! It's enough to make anyone sick!  
  
Heero looked out the window and bit his lip.  
  
And if they were like that in public, Lord only knows what they were doing now! He could almost see it in his mind. He didn't want to see it in his mind - her with her dress up around her waist, his pants down around his ankles. Oh, he was kissing her all over now! Her neck, her chest, her stomach, lips, ears - there wasn't a sovereign place on her that he wasn't touching with his greasy, asshole hands! It made him sick.  
  
He bit his lip harder.  
  
He could hear her moaning and the squeak of leather seats as they did things that no one like them should ever be allowed to do. The way their bodies went up and down, the way her hair wrapped around her neck and how her nails scratched his back. Up and down, up and down, it was degrading! His tongue going over her body like some sick kind of snake. Their labored breaths were echoing in his ears and he could feel the heat from their bodies! What kind of world was he living in?!  
  
And just a little bit harder.  
  
With the speed and tempo picking up, he could hear them. Those dirty bastards in the back of a limo! They had no decency! The way their hands and legs and limbs intertwined! The way clothes felt against bare flesh! Getting louder and louder in his head! Sweaty and loud and hot and there was no God! There was no chance! Faster and faster and louder and harder and the squeaking and the moaning and the faster and-  
  
"Hey!" The driver shouted and Heero flew out of his daze. Thank God it had all been a dream, or rather, eww. With a shudder, he looked over at the man with a hint of worry, but it wasn't noticed thanks to his cheap imitation glasses.  
  
"You're lip's bleeding." The guy pointed out.  
  
The remark made him realize the sharp, sting on his lip and the presence of a wet substance. Heero flipped down the mirror and saw a gash the size of three teeth bleeding all over his lip and onto his chin.  
  
"Shit." He moaned as he reached into his pocket to get a tissue, but as he moved, drops spilled onto his white shirt and his tie.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
He had spilled blood, seen blood, and in one not-so-memorable instance even tasted it, but still there was no sicker sight than his own, especially when it came to staining his clothes. Stupid sex-having-people! It was all their fault! It was all her damn fault!  
  
"What the hell did you do?" The driver asked, his eyes occasionally glancing over at Yuy.  
  
"I dunno." He murmured. Heero spit into the tissue and tried to dab the stain out. Of course, he only made it worse. "Damn it."  
  
"Club soda will get it out if you get it on there soon enough." The man said, signaling as they moved onto the interstate.  
  
Heero rolled his eyes as he kept dabbing at his shirt. "Well that's great, but I don't have any."  
  
Mr. Driver took one hand off the wheel and reached under his seat while trying to merge with traffic at the same time. He tossed the bottle at Heero, the liquid inside making that swish, swish noise as it fell into his lap. The driver put his hands back on the wheel. "For life's little accidents."  
  
Yuy unscrewed the top off and poured some onto his tissue. "And by accidents I take it you mean, life's little murders?"  
  
The driver laughed. "You see any blood on my seats?"  
  
Heero applied the liquid to his shirt. "Club soda?"  
  
"Club soda. And of course, a big ass stain remover." He laughed while he checked his mirrors and Yuy couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of discomfort. "What's your name?"  
  
"Yuy. Your's?"  
  
"Max. Max Dukakis."  
  
They came into the city and the buildings hid the sun. Heero looked out the window at the towers and man-made creations of steel and brick. Cairo was a major industry city and a huge political town, and as traffic flew by on the opposite side of the highway as the high rises showed up on both sides, it made everyone who drove through feel claustrophobic.  
  
"Some city ain't it?" Max asked as the turned off onto a ramp.  
  
Heero blinked hard under his glasses. "Yeah. Some city."  
  
"So you're Mrs. Takada's leading man?" They slowed for a stoplight. "Would have pictured you to be a lot more buff or bigger or something."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
"Small but lethal, makes sense." Dukakis chewed at the flesh on the inside of his cheek. "What do you think of her?"  
  
Heero looked over at him. "Who? Rele--" He caught himself and prayed to anyone who would listen that his new-found friend Max the Driver Dukakis didn't notice. "Eileen?"  
  
Max sighed. "No, your mother. Of course Eileen!"  
  
And the minute it was uttered it became the most interesting question Heero had ever been asked in his some odd years of existence. It was the most profound, groundbreaking, earth-shaking, mind-blowing question he had ever even heard! It was priceless! It was perfect! It was. Strange.  
  
Yuy let it roll around in the halls of his empty, tired mind, and when he found what he was looking for it, it was not the answer that scared him, but rather, the choice.  
  
He could say one of two things. One of two things:  
  
"I love her." "I hate her."  
  
What would it be? What would he chose? Which one would be the answer to this question that was the paradox of his very being? And as the high-rises and skyscrapers faded away to fields of brighter golds and gorgeous greens, he began to understand that nothing was as black and white as this and to understand the answer, he had to better understand the question. What did he think of her?  
  
"She's not a concern of mine." He said as he stared out the window, watching the cows and wildlife pass them by.  
  
Max tapped his fingers against the wheel. "I hear ya."  
  
And for some reason that Heero couldn't quite grasp, he felt, dirty - unclean. Like he had told a lie that he would never be able to forget and that would always haunt him. That somewhere, he had set the wheels in motion for a grand event of something looming, something dangerous, and it scared him. And it was a pity, because Heero Yuy would never know how right he was. 


	14. Letters

"Dearest Eileen,  
  
I was happy to get your letter and hear that you were doing well. Although, I will say I was very shocked when you told me that he was there -- more than shocked in fact. When I read that, I dropped the letter and had to sit down. My wife had to take care of me and she's the one that's pregnant! But I will say, I really was floored - beyond words and beyond belief.  
  
How are you with it? I know this has been and will always be an issue with you and I really don't know what to tell you. I wish I did, but, I just can't. I'm with my one and only right now. Isn't that what you used to call him? God, it's been so long I can't even remember. Don't worry about it though. If I know you like I think I do (or rather like I know I do) you'll figure out how to get through this. You always were so strong in that regard. No wonder you did what you did. But honestly, don't worry, I have faith in you and I want you to know that whatever you do, I'm behind you one-hundred percent. That's the least I could do, but sadly, all I really can. That's something else I want you to know. If you ever need anything, just tell me. If it's within my power, I will. Ky may be a powerful man, but I've got friends he could only ever dream about.  
  
Work is going as best as it can. The political limelight is slowly killing me though, or at least I think. Ha, but you know how that is. Everyone wants a piece of me, everyone wants to know my opinion - I've seen my wife all of ten minutes in the last week.  
  
I don't like this kind of life. I mean, I do like it - it's probably what I'll be doing until the end of time - but, I'm missing on what's really important. I'm missing out on the things that really matter. Oh God, did I tell you! She's thought of a name for the baby! If it's a boy it's Conner and if it's a girl, Aya. She says she'll be happy with whatever the baby is but secretly, I can tell she wants a girl. I can see it in her eyes when we go shopping for furniture, or sometimes, just in the way that she looks out the window. I can almost see a little girl with blonde, blonde curls in my wife's eyes. She's getting tired of this life too. I can tell that she wants something more than just being with me. She wants us to have a family, a real one - with a house and privacy and no spotlight glaring in our eyes or following us around. And I know she doesn't want our children growing up like that. I know that I don't want our children growing up like that. And with every passing day that she gets a little bit bigger (she'd kill me if she knew I said that) and I see her smile get a little bit wider, I realize that we're coming upon a crossroad in our life. What should be so easy, I'm afraid will turn out to be harder than we could imagine. I'd lie if I said I wasn't nervous, so I'll just leave it at this. My job or my wife? Should that be such a hard decision? Should that even be a decision at all?  
  
I've been getting headaches lately. Mostly when I'm at work so I think it's stress related. Colony policy, world policy - who cares anymore? It'll just be one more damn press conference or meeting that I'll have to go to. Anyway, these headaches keep getting worse everyday. Tylenol fixes them for a time being, but they come back again. My wife thinks I should go to the doctor; I think it's just my nerves. One of my cabinet members gave me some Valium to take. He said it would ease whatever tension I have, and it's working. Or at least, it has been. I'm taking three at a time now. Two just doesn't do it anymore. My wife thinks that I'm becoming and addict and has threatened to throw them away, so I hid them from her. Ha-ha! She means well, but sometimes she can be so one-minded it kills me. Like I would become an addict? Right! I love her though.  
  
I hate doctors.  
  
I was looking through some old books of mine and a photo slipped out. It was of you. Why I have it I'll never know. Seems to me I didn't really like you back then or that I gave you the cold shoulder - just one of the many things that I am sorry for in my life.  
  
But, in the picture, you look so happy. You can't be more than fifteen or sixteen and you're sitting on a rock by the ocean. You're very beautiful; something that I'm sure hasn't changed. I see an article about Ky in the paper from time to time, but there's never a picture of you. I guess he has his reasons, just like you have yours. But, will you do me a favor and send me one? While I love having this one of you, it's old and outdated and reminds me of bittersweet times. And while these times really haven't changed, I'd still like something newer. I understand if you can't, but in return (my incentive is fantastic, I assure you), I'll send you a picture of my wife and I. Who knows, maybe even a picture of the baby!  
  
I wish I could write more, but I'm getting one of those damn headaches again, and my wife is calling for me. Probably wants me to go get her something to eat. I don't mind though. To me, this is intimate. Ha-ha! Food runs for my wife. How very priceless.  
  
Dear Eileen, or whoever you are now while you read this letter, I want you to know that I'm thinking of you; I'm hoping for the best. Please tell me how Ky and the children are. I would like to know. After all, we're all the same.  
  
I've started thinking about life, and want to tell you this quickly before I put this in the mail. Don't let him live your life for you. Just because he's back, doesn't mean he has to control you or your feelings. Ghosts stay ghosts - they don't come back from the dead. If that's what he is, then you need to let him know. There isn't a reason for you to let him haunt your dreams anymore.  
  
You are your own person, and for that, I love you. You're the only person I have in this miserable world, or at least, in one respect.  
  
In good fai--"  
  
The rest of the letter was smudged. He really must have been in a hurry. Eileen smiled as she ran her fingers over the letter. It was one thing that kept her happy and one of the few things that kept her sane. She had read it before she left and now she was reading it again and while she wasn't crying this time, she felt the same.  
  
Happy. Truly happy.  
  
She heard footsteps and pushed it back into her bag. Secrets are meant to be kept and not revealed. Not even to her husband. That's why they didn't use any real names, except the addressing one. Even if someone found the letters, they wouldn't know who it was from. They would be safe from a scandal. Safe from chaos.  
  
It felt so good to have one person know she was alive; one person who she wasn't married to, in something with (what she wasn't sure), but someone who knew her and loved her. Someone from her old days. Someone from her past.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ky loosened his tie and gave a smirk. She felt a knot ball up in her stomach.  
  
Eileen looked down at her bag and gave a weak smile. "Nothing." 


	15. Rocking Chair Thoughts

The last two days had been confusing. Really fucking confusing. One minute everything is roses and he's telling her about his dreams; they're having a heart to heart with the intensity of a fireball racing at earth at mach- fucking-one. Two seconds later, wham! She's in the arms of her stupid-ass husband and he hates her. No no, he more than hates her. He despies the ground that she walks on, the gravity that keeps her there, and the asphalt company that laid the runway. Those communist bastards. Probably even have a union too.  
  
So what was it? Was he completely in love with her? Did he want to shoot her with a big, big gun? What the hell was the point of all this anymore? He could remember a day where he could sit down and see the whole shibang from beginning to end. He knew exactly what was going to happen, how it was going to happen, and he was going to like it. She was going to love him; he was going to love her. Simple as that. But now he wouldn't even think about putting five bucks down on this bet. It was anyone's call it, be it St. Peter or non-saint Satan.  
  
Heero made his lips vibrate like horses do. He was sure there was a much more technical name for it, but, it made him think of horses. So he did it again, just because he thought it was funny.  
  
When Relena, or Eileen or whoever the hell she was, was with Ky, Yuy was simply left out of the fan-club. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200 dollars, just sit your Asian ass right back down and pretend not to know (or in his case not to care) about what it was they were doing. Mhmm... Yeah. Right. Whatever. He couldn't do his job, but he had to show up for work anyway. It was an absolute waste of time and he hated it.  
  
Heero tapped his fingers on the arm of the rocking chair he was sitting in.  
  
He had always thought Cairo meant sand and cactus and bleak, desolate desert scenary that would slowly suck the life out of you, but he had been wrong. There was another side of Cairo with cows and chickens and, well, grass. The house that Takada was renting for his stay in the city was actually very lovely - a farmhouse with a wrap-around porch and a swing in the back. There wasn't a snake or tumbleweed to be seen for miles.  
  
It was somewhere between eleven o'clock and midnight, that much Yuy was sure of. He had seen one too many moons not to know what time it was. There was a chilly gust of wind that came around every five minutes or so, leaving the new-found leaves to whisper and rumble like a stampede. Relena had been right (surprisingly enough.) Cairo was chilly, even in the spring.  
  
God....... Spring. Bunnies. Randy Bunnies.  
  
Heero rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He had to stop thinking about sex! He had to stop thinking about the woman he loved having sex with a man she hated. Or at least, that he thought she hated. Damn it she could be so confusing! I love him; I hate him! I love him; I hate him! Make up your damn mind so we can move onto the next pitiful chapter in our lives!  
  
One day, he would tell her that. One day he would tell her everything. But something he had learned over the years - something that had proven to be very valuable - was that there is a time and a place for everything. Choose your battles. Why use the sword when words work just as well?  
  
"Cause it's more fun." Yuy thought as he let the last of the cigarette smoke drift out under the starless sky. The wind made the abandoned rocking chairs creek, making an eerie symphony of wood against wood.  
  
Soul searching or just searching for some kind of goal to cling too - he could never tell which one he was doing. In retrospect, he didn't even care. He knew what he wanted, so he didn't need to dwell on it. He didn't mean to dwell on it...... She was just there. Lingering. She was in the back of his mind all the time.  
  
She came on like a light, and so softly she spoke: "What makes you think we wouldn't?"  
  
Too long had he thought about those six little words. Too long had he tried to rationalize or psycho-analyze or even victimize those words into something that held a deeper meaning, a stronger passion. She had set ground rules because, she knew. They both knew. There was a mutual attraction. There was an wanting, a yearning that they both had. It was tangible. It was credible. And she had killed it. Every night before he went to sleep he watched the scene over and over......  
  
She truly was amazing.  
  
He could tell he was getting tired. His thoughts weren't coherent anymore. They were jumping around like fleas in a circus or little children on a trampoline. There was no sense on trying to figure out his problems when he could barely keep an idea in his head.  
  
Heero stamped out his cigarette and walked into the house. 


	16. I am Ready

The kitchen was where he went.  
  
He pulled out bread and cheese and other things that would help him make a sandwich, but he did it without thinking, like he had been programmed to do it a thousand times before. His face was stolid and preoccupied with the thoughts that ran through his head; they were so cold. They were so confusing.  
  
He took two slices from the loaf and laid them on a paper towel. Quietly, he unscrewed the lid to the mayonnaise. The knife spread the condiment evenly on wheat as he stared off into space. He was changing. This place, this time, these people - they were changing him.  
  
A sliver of meat went on one piece and diligently he laid a slice of Swiss cheese on top. He put the mayonnaise, the ham, and the cheese away, replacing them with a green head of fresh romaine lettuce. He cut a piece off and laid it on his sandwich. He should just break the contract and leave. He should just pick up his tired and weary self and go somewhere where candle light reflected off walls and beautiful, mellow, dramatic music played to the tune of his beating heart.  
  
Tomato juice dripped onto the counter as he cut two slices for himself. He took a bite of out of a third before he threw it and the red, round food away. They were rich. They could afford it.  
  
He spread mustard on the other slice of bread, pressing the two pieces together to form something to quench one of his many hungers. Maybe he would just cry, cry until there was no fluid left in his body. Maybe he would cry until he fell over and died, a victim of his own melodramatic mind.  
  
He put everything away, grabbing a drink from the refrigerator as he closed the door. He sat on one of the stools and slowly took a bite of his sandwich. The only light was a small one above the sink that buzzed like a bee on a hot July day. He swallowed. He closed his eyes and let everything go down with his food. Maybe it really wasn't as bad as he thought it was. Maybe things were really quite good this way. Or maybe he was a liar.  
  
He popped the top of his drink open and took a sip. It was cold and he felt the blood rush to his lips in an attempt to combat the cold temperature. He felt the way it slid down his throat, anticipating the moment when the freeze hit his stomach and gave him chills. And they did. And he had them.  
  
The house smelled of begonias and day lilies, a crude mixture that overtook his senses and made him feel debilitated. He took a breath and another bite of his food, before he closed his eyes again, giving into this engulfing sadness and relentless tired. Things will get better. Things had to get better. He was ready for them too.  
  
A drip of mustard fell from his sandwich and onto the table. It sat there, waiting to be told what to do; waiting to be cleaned up or thrown away or disinfected. It had no emotion. It had no ability. It was lifeless. It reminded him of himself. And as he looked up from the yellow dab, the other pair of eyes met him halfway and followed him back to the normal range of sight.  
  
To look at her killed him one serene moment at a time. To see the way her brown hair draped against her snow white shoulders, the way her mouth stayed open just a little bit, as though she were going to whisper, but never did, or even the way she stood, feeble and quirkish, with her petite hands resting on her gaunt hips - they all made him wish he could die a thousand times over just for one touch of her skin, just one touch from her pale, beautiful fingers.  
  
She was poison to his soul, the way her eyes met his. She was a hazard to his health, the way she smiled weakly at him. This elegant angel that he had wanted since the moment he met, he wondered if she knew how much it hurt him to be near her, or how wonderful it was. He wondered if she had ever caught him second-glancing or eyeing her the way men do when they fall in love, when they fall in affection... When they fall into a state of mind that doesn't let them sleep at night.  
  
They stood there. They stayed there.  
  
"Hello." She whispered, loud enough for him to hear.  
  
He felt his heart break.  
  
"Hello." He said.  
  
Her tired eyes fell to her feet, pensive in their gaze and quiet in their reflection. He watched her for a moment before doing the same. His blue, broken stare making its way down to the counter. He felt guilty. She felt guilty. They wondered if the other felt the same.  
  
She looked up. He did too.  
  
She took a labored breath as if to say something, but she stopped short. She let it go, and gave a withered smile as she walked to the refrigerator. She opened the door, the light shining through the semi-darkness they had been standing in. She pulled out something wrapped in foil and placed it on the counter. She closed the door, wrapping them once again in their silent conversation.  
  
He watched the way she carefully removed the cover and slid the bowl into the high-tech microwave with its buttons and whistles that filled the dead space between them.  
  
"I didn't mean for you to see any of this." She spoke. Her eyes focused on her hand and she didn't turn around to face him.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Well, it's kind of hard to avoid it."  
  
And he could have sworn he heard her whisper, "Don't I know it."  
  
The appliance beeped and she opened the door, carefully removing the bowl and testing the heat with her finger. Unsatisfied, she put it back in the microwave and set it for a few more minutes. She licked her finger, turned and faced him.  
  
"I never wanted you to be apart of this." She said low and somber, her eyes running over his face and his hands in a slow and steady way. "I would have given you some time off had I known--"  
  
"Why don't you want me to see this?" He asked, hoping and praying he had caught the thread that would unravel it all and send it crashing down into his shaking and nervous arms. He watched her stare at him in amazed confusion, choking back something rising in her throat. She stumbled for the words.  
  
"I just... This is my..." She paused and took a breath, looking at him earnestly, honestly. "Because I can imagine how much it hurts. And I don't want you to hurt like that. Like this. Not because of me."  
  
A fluttered gasp of air left him and he felt himself speaking before he thought. "I hurt because of you everyday and everyday for the last eight years of my life."  
  
The words hit her and she tightened her shoulders as a stray tear fell down her burning cheek. "And I'm sorry for that."  
  
They were there, unmoving and naked in their own racing minds and thoughts and tears and fears and dreams and hate and unwavering dispositions about life and love and all the bittersweet moments that come with it. The microwave beeped. The microwave beeped. The microwave beeped. The microwave stopped.  
  
She cast her eyes down again, turning and opening the appliance again, feeling the bowl's heat. She put it down on the counter and pulled out a fork, twirling and churning the contents in the bowl slowly, deliberately. This was it. Their conversation was over. Everything was said; everything was done.  
  
"Why do you still sleep with him if you hate him?" He asked, the burning he felt gleaming in his eyes.  
  
She turned to him, eyes still down cast. He had caught her off guard. He had caught her vulnerable.  
  
"Please..." She whispered; she begged.  
  
"Why do you still, hug him and kiss him if you don't care?"  
  
"Don't. Please don't."  
  
"Why do you still look at him like you do, if you don't love him?" He hissed and he felt the feelings rise in his throat and the water drift into his eyes. She was shaking a little; her breathing was harder now. She swallowed the lump in her dry, dry throat and closed her eyes tight.  
  
"Things are going so well between us. Please, things are going so well." She pleaded with him. "Don't complicate them anymore." She ran her sickly fingers through her cool, thick hair. She looked away, but somehow, her conscience turned her back towards him. Him with his messy brown hair. Him with his beautiful blue eyes that looked so lost and hurt. Him with his white t-shirts and five o'clock shadows. Him with his untouchable honesty and elegance. Him with his tear-filled eyes.  
  
"What's so complicated about it?" He moaned. "I love you and you love--" And he had said it before he knew what he was saying. It was over before it even began. The way her eyes grew, the way her mouth parted - he knew he had said the wrong thing at the wrong time.  
  
And it took every ounce of strength she had in her not to collapse on the floor. And it took even more to keep looking at him.  
  
"David." She struggled to say, tears changing her voice into that of a smoker's - old and broken down. "I love David."  
  
He felt his heart wobble as she closed her eyes and made her way to the door. And when she didn't come back through it, he felt his chest cave in and his mind go numb.  
  
What had he done? His most precious secret, his most prize possession had slipped into the hands of the one person he didn't want to give it to. His most inner-feeling, his most ideal life had come out in the mere blink of an eye. Oh God, and now she knew. Now she knew how he felt. It wasn't guessing game, it, it wasn't a game of subtle hints it was naked, it was there for her to see. It was... It was hers now. Oh God, what had he done?  
  
He sank down onto the floor and felt his lungs shallow and shallow and shallow until he felt as though he couldn't breathe. He had to stand up. He had to make it work again. He had to fix it. He had to tell her he was only joking. That he didn't love her. How could he love her? He was the soldier! He was the Untouchable. He was the unwavering rock that felt nothing for no one, and yet shattered at the simplest thought of that beautiful girl that plagued every moment of his days.  
  
He somehow made it to his feet. He fought back what he knew were tears with the intensity of an angry god and the wrath of a war-torn Heaven. He had to keep it together. He couldn't lose it now. He had to make sure she knew it was a lie. He had to make sure he knew it wasn't real. This wasn't real. None of this was ever real. It was all just a dream, just passing, just a blink of an eye.  
  
He wiped his eyes and quickly started making it to the door. Faster steps, faster steps, keep going! You're almost there. And he almost ran right into her. Her face was tear-stained and she avoided his stare like a child avoids its diseased mother.  
  
"I forgot my rice." She said quickly, hurrying past him to the bowl on the counter.  
  
It was now or never, do or die. He had to let her know he was lying. He had to make her know he was kidding. He grabbed her wrist and turned her towards him and he felt her shrink in his grip. She looked at him, tears and snot running down her twisted face.  
  
"Don't! Please don't. Whatever you say, whatever you say..." She put her hands on his face, cupping him in her shaking palms. "Whatever you say will only make it worse. It won't help." She labored to catch her breath. She fought to keep her composure somewhat in tact. His blood boiled and his skin curled at her touch. The way she touched him with such rejection - she was pushing him away.  
  
She let out a sob. "Whatever you do will only make it harder. Whatever you say, whatever you do will only make it hurt worse. It will only make it worse!" She whispered through a river of free-flowing tears. "Please, just leave me alone! Just leave me be! I can't do this anymore. I can't! Just leave me alone, please. Please, let me go!" She fell into his chest and he could feel her warm breath staining his soul and his cotton shirt. He wrapped his now childish arms around her youthful body and felt himself hurt. Hurt in such a way that it took all of who he was and send it crashing down into a blank stare.  
  
He remembered a song he heard so long ago and for some reason mouthed the words, "I am ready. I am ready. I am ready. I am..."  
  
"Fine." He whispered into her ear. She stopped crying, she stopped shaking, and she pulled away from him. She looked up at him with a thankful disdain, with a hated appreciation. They both knew that he would never stop. He knew it more than she did; she knew it more than he did. And it burned. It burned to look at her with her white cotton nightgown on. With her pink- painted fingernails.  
  
He did it again. "Why do you love him?"  
  
Her smile and grace faded away as she started to shake her head harder and harder. Her gaze melting into a look of disgust and nausea. "What's wrong with you?" She grit her teeth and pushed the lump in her throat back down.  
  
"What?" He asked, confused.  
  
"Why can't you see that he's just a substitute for you!" She shouted. And her eyes grew and her mouth parted. So did his. The shock of her own words sent her into a state of warped confusion and she looked down at nothing. She looked as though she were going to vomit.  
  
"Oh my..."  
  
And that was all she said as she slowly walked back to the door. And when she didn't come back through it, he felt himself slink back down to the floor, where he stayed for the next four hours. 


	17. The Story is Set, The Characters are Cal...

They sat together in the dark, their hands neatly folded in each others. He knew she couldn't speak Italian, but he knew she could understand everything they said. Every beat of her heart rose and fell with the voice of the actor who stood in front of them and everyone else. He heard her hold her breath when he sang on stage, the way his voice burned with terrified passion, with such pain.  
  
Ridi, Pagliacci!  
  
He felt her hand tighten against his, and felt the way her body tensed when he let the words fall from his mouth like the red satin curtain at intermission, slow but forceful. Gravity was pulling the curtain down, and betrayle was pulling the actor under.  
  
Sul tuo amore infranto!  
  
The cloudy look in her eyes, the way she felt with her soul, with her whole being...  
  
Ridi del duol che t'avvelena il cor!  
  
She pulled her eyes away from the spectacle on stage and looked at the man beside her. She peered at him, begged him for an explanation, an understanding.  
  
"He's trying to make himself go on with life." The man with the shaggy brown hair and scars on his face said. He pointed out to the stage and she followed his lead, staring at the character.  
  
"Laugh loud, Clown, at your smashed love." He said, eyes on the actor.  
  
A tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"Laugh off the pain that empoisons your heart." He whispered to her softly.  
  
And as he watched her take a heavy sigh, something in him broke. The way she involved herself, the way she so intensly felt what the actor on the stage was - he realized he honestly, truthfully loved her.  
  
Luka turned her face towards him and kissed her like she hadn't been kissed in so long. Perhaps, maybe it was the music, maybe it just was the way she felt, but she kissed back with no inhibitions. She let herself go.  
  
They pulled back and he stared at her. The thoughts in his head were racing as the orchestral music died down. Ideas blurred into the future and the future faded into right here, right now.  
  
"Marry me." He pleaded. She gave a shocked look through her dying tears. "I can't live without you." He tightened his grip against hers. Anya tried to smile, but it came out disjointed and confused.  
  
"Okay." She managed to whisper, and he kissed her again.  
  
It was the third Tuesday of the month. It was the 21st, and in a moment that would plague them for the rest of their lives, they pledged each other eternity at the Finee Opera House. They had just promised each other the end of what would be their miserable, single lives.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Author's Note: The opera that I used in this particular chapter is called "Pagliacci." The particular piece I used is called "Vesti la Giubba" and I highly, HIGHLY, recommend downloading it and listening to it while you read this chapter or any of the chapters. The "Ridi Pagliacci..." comes from the very, very end of the song which is no more that 3 minutes long. It's extremely poweful. The idea is adultery; Canio's, a circus clown, wife has cheated on him with another circus performer. Canio has just found out, and "Vesti la Giubba" is what he sings to calm himself before going out on stage. It's really freaking good!!! ^_^ 


	18. Routine and Radios

Heero woke up in his room, in his bed, with his clothes on. He didn't remember how he had got there and quite frankly he didn't really think he wanted to. He would settle for the fact that he felt like he had a hangover; he would settle for the fact that after drinking half a bottle of Wild Turkey, he did.  
  
He got up slowly, fearing that amazing blood rush to his head. Yuy rubbed his eyes and felt the sleep disappear into the folds of his weathered hands. He also felt a rough patch of stubble that covered his entire face. Two days - he had forgotten to shave two days in a row.  
  
Making it to his mirror above his poor-excuse-for-a-sink sink, he splashed water on his face, welcoming the shock to his system. At least it was something other than this. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, this sad fucking sight, hanging on her every word like a middle school horn dog. Oh, what a man he was.  
  
Heero peeled his clothing off one disgusting layer at a time. They reeked of sweat and alcohol, a scent he was all too familiar with and hated even more. He turned on the shower and waited until the steam was thick that he could barely breathe before he got in. It looked like a tiny gray cloud had fallen into his half-bath.  
  
The scalding water burned at his flesh, but he didn't mind. The heat stung his eyes and purified his body at the same time. He stood there for a while. He soaked and let it all wash away before washing himself and turning off the shower.  
  
There was always a fresh suit hanging in his crappy closet, and there always had been, everyday for the last three days that he had been here. He took the black and white three-piece off its dainty hanger and put it on, tightening his tie and combing his hair all the while. For a minute, he knew he looked good.  
  
Oh, but what to do now? What could he possibly say or do that would change the situation and shift it back to its awkward-not-so-normal-but-kind-of- normal day to day interactions with the one he was supposed to take care of?  
  
Heero shook his head. Protect. He meant protect.  
  
He looked at himself; he peered at himself in Alice's glass. He had to mean protect.  
  
It was bubbling underneath the surface; it always had been. Now, it was just out there in the open. He had laid out a pair of Jacks and a pair of eights. She laid down the whole royal fucking flush.  
  
Yuy sighed and bent down to tie his shoes. He should just let bygones be bygones and let the chips fall where the may. One makes money by observation, not always speculation. Or were observation and speculation the same thing?  
  
Good God did it even matter?! He was so sick of making these half-assed analogies, these what-ifs or maybes that he had come to know and trust so well. Christ, they didn't matter! Just let it go!  
  
He slid his cell phone into his pocket, and he pulled it back out when he realized he had forgotten to turn it on. He re-slid it back into his pocket and threw his sunglasses on top of his head. Finally, he realized he hadn't consulted his watch, and the revelation that it was almost 12:30 in PM was as disheartening as it was really freaking bad.  
  
Yuy slapped on some after-shave lotion, after shaving, shoved a piece of gum into his mouth, grabbed his walkie-talkie-radio-transmitter- communicator-whatever-the-hell-they-wanted-to-call-it-today, clicked it on, turned out the lights, grabbed his keys, opened the door, walked out, and locked it behind him.  
  
The hallways in the 'service quarters' were narrow and almost clamped shut by ridiculously large pieces of furniture jutting out into the middle. He passed maids in the uniforms and gardeners in their duds as he made his way to the back door, down the seventeen steps, and across the walkway to the Takada's rental property.  
  
There was static on the radio; idle chit-chat was being made by a few guards. After a minute, the line was quiet, then went fuzzy, and finally he heard a rough, Irish-sounding voice come across the airway.  
  
"Alpha noimber tah-three-tah. Coime in."  
  
Heero reached down and pulled his black hand-held up to his face. "This is two-three-two. Go ahead."  
  
Static. "Meester Takada wants tah see ya."  
  
Heero stopped and closed his eyes. God, please no. Please, please no.  
  
Kssh. "Didya hear mah tah-three-tah?"  
  
This was a bad dream. This was all just a bad alcohol-induced nightmare.  
  
"Tah-three-tah answe--"  
  
"Yeah I heard." He hissed as he let go of the button. The foul taste of jealousy bled into his mouth and left him feeling unclean. He didn't want to see that man. Why the hell did he have to see that man?!  
  
Because he is the boss and you do what he says. "Two-three-two, over and out."  
  
He walked towards the big, big house that was in front of him. He went up the back porch steps, through the back door and the back hallway, into the foyer, down two more hallways, and then he stopped, right in front of a door that he didn't want to go through. Right in front of a place he never wanted to be.  
  
There was an opera he heard once, playing in the background before he killed a man. It was an eerie sound, full of remorse, but it was beautiful. For some reason, he heard it now, and the thought made him sick. It brought the smell of freshly splattered blood on white-washed walls. It brought back the image of a little boy seeing his father murdered, and then.  
  
Knock on the door, Yuy. Just knock on the God damn door.  
  
He rapped his knuckles against the cherry stained wood.  
  
"Come in." A strong, deep voice called from the other side. Heero grit his teeth and unwillingly opened the door that separated him and the person he wanted to hurt more than anyone else. He had a gun too. This could all be over and done with in a matter of seconds.  
  
But as he pushed the door open, he saw two guards sitting on couches on the far side of the library, and he knew that the messy, heat-of-the-moment assassination attempt was as flaky an idea as it was stupid and childish.  
  
He settled for letting the scene play out in his head.  
  
Takada was standing behind his desk when he looked up at Yuy. With his brown business eyes and snake like tongue, he smiled and opened his arms in a sign of welcome. He wore a dark gray pin stripped suit that probably cost more than Yuy's entire net worth. His hair was gelled back against his head in such a way that it made him look like a car salesman. But he looked better than a car salesman. He looked like a man who knew how to play his cards, who knew what to say and how to get what he wanted. He was a man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted.  
  
The 5'9'' executive took off his glasses and laid them down on his desk, and with the same degrading and sleazy smile he had shot earlier, he gave it again. He gave it again and again and again and Heero swore he could feel the flesh on the back of his neck burn hotter than the fires of hell.  
  
He had his gun. This could all be over in just a few seconds.  
  
Yuy felt the eyes of prying guards sweep over him, but he kept his ground. He stood, tall and unwavering, in front of the enemy and the protector, the employer.  
  
"Heero Yuy. God, it's great to finally actually get to meet you." Ky spit it out like it was silk, silk that wasn't good enough for him. He looked over at his men and motioned to the door. The two hulking men stood up and with hateful and cautious eyes, stared Heero down as they left the room and shut the doors behind them.  
  
Takada poured himself a drink. He turned to Yuy. "Want one?"  
  
Heero bit his tongue. "No, thank you."  
  
Ky took a gulp of his assumable Scotch and made his way back behind his desk. "So you're the one who's been watching over my wife."  
  
The bodyguard cringed. "Yes, Sir, I have been doing what I was hired to do."  
  
Takada laughed. "Oh come on, you don't have to be so formal. This is just a chat, a little, heart-to-heart, if you will, between two men." He rolled the ice in his glass around and took his seat. A snake in the grass, if there ever was one, Heero thought.  
  
"So tell me, how is my wife? Is she good? I mean, I don't really get to see her on a day to day basis in her own environment. Is she acting well and such?"  
  
Bastard. "Mrs. Takada suffers from, as far as I can tell, an occasional separation anxiety and often serious depression. Other than those conflicting illnesses, she seems in peak physical health and good spirits."  
  
Takada nodded. "Mhmm. But she takes pills for those disorders, correct?"  
  
"Correct." Heero said with a cold, cruel burning in his tight, tight throat.  
  
"Damn doctors. You pay them thousands of dollars to fix you and in the end all they gave you is a forty dollar bottle of pills and an RX of diet and exercise." Ky smirked. He felt so smug, sitting there in all his wealth and power and self-appointed glory. What a bastard.  
  
"So I hear you were in the Army?" He asked as he leaned back in his pure Italian leather chair and cashmere suit. He clashed against the dark wooden walls and English dog hunter theme that surrounded them. He clashed with everything he came into contact with, or at least, in Yuy's opinion he did.  
  
"I am not at liberty to talk about things of that nature."  
  
Ky shook his head sympathetically. "Of course not, of course not. Wouldn't want you to get into any trouble. Would we?" He paused and something a bit intimidating crossed his face, and if Yuy didn't know better, he could have sworn that that was a threat.  
  
Heero stared at him, trying to examine the situation. The snake smiled.  
  
"I guess, what I'm getting at Yuy, is that, with your experience in the military, you are familiar with death. You're familiar with explaining it and so forth."  
  
His stomach churned. "Once again, I'm not at liberty to talk about such things."  
  
Ky feigned apathy. "Oh, right, right. Sorry, sorry. I just," He looked at him with the same look an Evangelist looks at people when he needs money to fund his fraudulent mission's trip. "I need your help."  
  
"If I can do it, Mr. Takada, I am prepared to lend my services." To someone other than you, Heero added in his head.  
  
"So loyal. That's a quality I like in you, Yuy." Ky looked at the bodyguard. "That's a quality I like indeed."  
  
There was a moment of silence, and it was horrible. It was as suffocating as a plastic bag, and they both could feel it. They stared at each other. They stared at each other for quite some time.  
  
"It's a pity though." Takada said as he pulled out some papers from a manila envelope on his desk. "You don't seem to like me."  
  
"Personal feelings have nothing to do with my job, Mr. Takada. I've been hired to protect your wife and on occasion your family and I do so to the best of my abilities."  
  
Ky smirked. "And I appreciate that."  
  
He handed the papers to Yuy and sat on the edge of his desk. "The diplomat and political figure Zechs Marquise died early this morning around five. He had a massive coronary event and died as a result at Saint Joseph's in his town."  
  
Heero looked through the papers and medical documents. There was something about the lack of interest in his voice, the lack of sympathy in Takada's movements that shocked him, that almost scared him. Maybe it was because he knew Zechs? Maybe it was because he fought with Zechs and laughed with Zechs.  
  
Past tense. It was funny how everything was and would be in past tense, from now until forever. It was too hard to believe. This couldn't be happening. Zechs was a young man, he was an important young man and people like that don't just have massive coronary failures and die. They just don't.  
  
Yuy blinked hard at the documents. Or maybe they do.  
  
Ky watched him carefully. He watched how the man in front of him sifted and flipped through the pages of the document sent to him by the Parliament members. Even though he tried to act unaffected, Ky could feel it. He could feel the boy's shock and upset. And it made him feel very, very good.  
  
"Are you all right? Did you know him?" He hissed. He hissed and secretly smiled.  
  
Heero handed the papers back. "What does this have to do with me?"  
  
Takada sighed, pushing the sheets of white back down into the folder and laying it on his desk. "My wife and he were old childhood friends. They were very close-"  
  
And before he could finish, Heero all ready knew what he was going to say.  
  
"Parliament lets the companies with more interest in the political scene know about such occurrences before the public, and I would really like her to know before the media does." Ky paused and went back behind his desk, taking his seat. "And I would like you to tell her."  
  
This was not good. "Mr. Takada, I do--"  
  
"Don't consider that a request, Mr. Yuy, because it wasn't." Ky barked as he put his glasses back on. He peered up at Heero with his reptilian eyes. "You're the closest person to my wife and she seems to like you. She'll cope better if you tell her."  
  
That son of a bitch. He was passing it off because he didn't want to do the dirty work. He didn't want to be apart of her life. He just wanted a screw, a kiss, and then it's back off to his own little word, the sick fuck! Heero had to resist it. He had to fight the urge to shoot him down right here and now. He had to stop the feeling of hate and soldier boiling up in him. He had to unclench his fists.  
  
He took a shallow, hot breath. "Yes, Sir."  
  
Ky's face lit up with a smile. "Attaboy, I knew I could count on you."  
  
Oh how it killed him.  
  
"Well," Takada said as he slapped his hands against his thighs, "I've got a lot of work to do. It's been great and thanks so much for doing this for me. I really appreciate it."  
  
Just turn. Just turn and walk through the doors. You can do this.  
  
Heero turned around and made his way to the door. His anger was shooting up through his veins and his blood was boiling at such a heat. He just had to get to the door.  
  
"Oh, and Yuy?"  
  
Shit. Okay, just keep it under control.  
  
He looked back at the son of a bitch who he hated more than anybody else.  
  
"Tell her today." Takada nodded towards the door, and looked back down at his work.  
  
In a blind rage, Yuy didn't remember walking back to his room. He didn't remember passing Eileen in the hallway and having her call to him, only to be ignored. He didn't remember tripping up the stairs or dismissing all radio correspondence. He didn't remember throwing his walkie-talkie into the pond, and he didn't remember breaking a vase in the hallway of the servant's wing.  
  
He did remember punching a hole through his wall though. He remembered because it stung and bled all over his floor and bed. He remembered because he had to have stitches.  
  
"That's a mighty big gash you've got there, Son." The medical doctor on call said as he started sewing up Yuy's throbbing hand.  
  
Heero looked out the window and felt the blistering heat of his whole world burn him. "You have no idea." 


	19. Bipolars, Masochists, and Snakes

He knocked on her door.  
  
"Who is it?" A voice from the other side questioned. For a minute, he contemplated defiance and going out and getting drunk.  
  
"It's me." He said. Who knows, maybe next time he would piss off the job and the responsibility that came with telling people their family members were dead.  
  
There was a silent pause followed by the pitter patter of dainty footsteps. He heard her undo the lock on her door and push it open. He was not greeted by a friendly face.  
  
"Oh," she spit out sarcastically, "so now you want to talk?"  
  
He stood in the hallway and stared at her. She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to come in.  
  
"What did you do to your hand?" She asked as made her way to the middle of the room.  
  
"I fell." He answered and she ran her fingers through her hair.  
  
"You're not the kind to fall, but then again, I wouldn't put it passed you. Just like I wouldn't expect you to be so sappy or, hey, I don't know, even walk right by me in the hall when I needed help as if I wasn't there." She shouted.  
  
Heero felt his subsiding anger rebuild itself. "Oh Christ, I don't have time for this."  
  
"Just like you didn't have time for me in the hallway?" Eileen smarted off.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a severe superiority complex and that you're a tinge bit bi-polar?" He hissed as he took a step towards her. He didn't care about her feelings. He shouldn't have too. She was not his freaking sun and moon. Well, okay, technically for the last couple of years she had been, but as of right now, no.  
  
Ell laughed. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an anger management and obsession problem?"  
  
"God you know, sometimes I get so pissed. And do you know why? Because of you!" He screamed. It was like they were back at square one.  
  
She cooed to him like a loving mother in sarcasm. "Oh, so you hurt your hand because of me?" She threw her hands in the air and started to shout. "Why don't you just admit that you're a damn masochist?! Always have been, always will be."  
  
"I really just wish you would stay one God damn emotion." He hissed as he got closer and closer to her. "I'm sad. I'm happy. I'm angry. Oh, now I'm sad again. But wait! I think I might be happy! Make up your fucking mind!"  
  
Eileen got in his face. "You talked to my husband today. I don't want you talking to him."  
  
He got in hers. "He's my boss. If he wants to talk to me, well then Hell's Bells Mrs. Takada cause I'm going to talk to him!"  
  
She felt a little of his spit on her cheek. "Well what'd you talk about, oh great and mighty one?"  
  
And Heero had to hold his breath. He came in here, taking all his rage and anger out on her, when really, he should have been sympathetic, even if she was being a bitch. Here she was, trying to be as tough as he was, hiding whatever feelings she had with sarcasm and insult. She was just trying to keep it all together, just like he was. Only difference was, he had the blow that would break her fragile glass mask. He watched as she walked over to a table and poured herself a glass of alcohol.  
  
"Aren't you going to answer me?" Ell asked, her hand wrapped tightly around the small transparent glass. Was he going to answer her?  
  
"Mrs. Takada, sit down." He said very gravely. He had to remember this was a delicate situation. They both had lost a friend. Maybe he should try to mourn. Maybe he all ready was.  
  
"What is it?" She spat as she took a sip from her Brandy. When she realized he wasn't moving, when she realized he was being serious, she felt a wave hit her and start to drag her under.  
  
"Heero," she spoke very serious, "what is it?"  
  
Yuy took a breath. "Sit down."  
  
Eileen took her seat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. He had been this serious since, well, since a long time ago. So long in fact, that she couldn't even remember. She peered at him with her soft, blue eyes, and Heero wondered if he had the guts to break her heart, again.  
  
"Rele--" He caught himself. "Eileen, your brother."  
  
His voice trailed off and she took a heavy breath. Whatever he was about to say, God, please let it be good.  
  
It had to be done. It's just like shooting a gun. It's all tension and fear until you pull the trigger, then it's easy as pie. So why wasn't this like shooting a gun?  
  
It was do or die. "Eileen, your brother died this morning of a heart condition."  
  
Ell bit her lip. "No he didn't."  
  
"I'm sorry, but, he did."  
  
She shook her head. "No, he didn't. That's just not possible."  
  
"Eileen."  
  
She stood up and started to pace around the room. "No, I don't believe it. I just, I just. I can't believe it. No, no that's wrong. He's okay." Ell threw her hands on her hips and started to walk faster. He could see the denial fading into shock, and soon, that shock would turn into tears.  
  
She looked at him. "He can't be dead." She shouted. "He, he. Noin is six months pregnant! She's, she's got three months to go! I just, I just got a letter from him. He can't be. Oh God he can't be!" Her shoulders tensed. "If he died, then, then, then, I di. I don't. He can't be! I don't understand how he can be!" Her eyes watered up and her hands shook a little.  
  
All he could do was stand and watch. He didn't know what else that could be done.  
  
"And you, you." She stared at him through tear-strained eyes. Realization slapped her straight in the forehead and her horror and grief turned to something more deadly and menacing. She walked up to him. "Ky told you to tell me, didn't he?"  
  
"Eileen--"  
  
"Don't 'Eileen' me, he told you to tell me, didn't he?" Ell shouted.  
  
"He may--"  
  
"Didn't he?!" She screamed.  
  
Heero pulled back. "Yeah," he said softly, "he did."  
  
She was biting so hard on her cheeks that she tasted blood. Her facial expressions soured and her whole air became violent and bitter. Eileen looked up at him for a second more before turning and marching to the door. She threw it open as she had before many times, and stormed out. Yuy followed quickly behind her.  
  
Anyone who came upon her made their way to the side. She was a firestorm and they could tell she was angry. Her tears had dried and been replaced with cold, dead pupils. She made her way down the stairs and down the corridor that led her to her confrontation.  
  
She threw open the doors. "Out!"  
  
The guards and two other men looked over to Mr. Takada for some kind of charge, but all he did was stare with a bewildered amusement at his wife. Nobody moved.  
  
"I said get out!" She screamed.  
  
Takada nodded to his men. "Go on."  
  
Eileen stared them down as they all walked past her. "Shut the doors." She hissed, and the last thing anybody saw before the thick mahogany doors closed, was the brunette as she made her way towards his desk. They, including the ex-pilot, were all left to wonder what hellfire and brimstone was about to fall in those four walls.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" She screamed as she stopped in front of his desk.  
  
"Now, now--"  
  
"Oh don't patronize me like one of your whores or clients, David!" She bellowed. "I am your wife and you will give me at least that respect." Ell let her cold, withered eyes stare holes into his chest.  
  
Takada shrugged. "Fair enough. And the name is Ky."  
  
"You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself. You sent a fucking guard to do it." She shouted through her swelling tears.  
  
"I had a meeting--"  
  
She picked up a paperweight and threw it against the wall, shattering a picture. "Fuck your meetings, Ky!" She screamed sarcastically. "You always have meetings! You cannot be that important!"  
  
"I hope you know how much that cost." Takada barked as he made his way back down into his chair.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Ell asked through her tears and clenching fists.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I really am. But it didn't seem that important." He took off his glasses and laid them on the desk. "I figured that that bodyguard of yours could do the job just as I did, maybe even better."  
  
"Important?" She questioned, floored and confused. "It didn't seem that important? My brother dies, and my well-being and grief doesn't seem that important?!"  
  
"Dear Christ, what are you doing here?! With repeating skills like that, you should be at the circus!" He shouted. "And from what I understand, you two didn't really like each other anyway. So why should I concern myself with you and your little neuroses? Hmm?"  
  
What was he saying? Could anybody be so cruel? Ell fought back the pain and the anguish in vain; she was so upset she didn't care anymore. All he did was put his glasses back on.  
  
"How dare you." She said, too shocked to think of anything else.  
  
Takada threw the papers down he had been looking at. "You're right. I dared. So now, if we're done here--"  
  
"When's the funeral?" Eileen shouted.  
  
Takada sighed. "How the hell should I know? Besides, I'm not going and you're not going."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me. I don't want you going to that damn parade of political acquaintances and sappy, sad people. It's not good for our cover." He said as he looked back down at the papers.  
  
Eileen threw her hands in the air. "I don't care about our cover! I wasn't allowed to talk to my brother for almost ten years and I'll be damned if I don't go to his funeral!"  
  
Takada took his glasses off again and rubbed his hands over his face. "You know what, fine! Go to the fucking funeral and send my best regards, just get the hell out of my office!"  
  
Ell shook her head in disgust and gave him the finger.  
  
"Right back at you baby." He hissed.  
  
"Go to hell!" She screamed as she turned and made her to the door. Takada waved as she walked out.  
  
"Oh, and if they figure out it's you, you might as well borrow the gun from that nice boy of yours and do it yourself, because if you don't, I'll just do it and make it look like a suicide anyway." He watched as she slammed the door behind her. Ky Takada wet his lips and sighed.  
  
"Fucking bitch."  
  
Eileen saw everyone standing outside the door scatter down the hallway or pretend to be talking on their phones. Her eyes searched and scanned until they fell on Heero.  
  
She point at him. "You." He stared at her. "Come on."  
  
They walked down the hallway in silence. She occasionally dabbed her eyes with the back of her hands and sniffled, but as they made it back to her room she had more or less stopped showing signs of emotion all together.  
  
"Make the call to have the cars down in an hour. Tell Javier to call the airport and have the plane ready to be flown back to Grenvale." She pulled out her suitcase and started throwing clothes in it. She walked into the bathroom.  
  
"You're leaving early?" Heero asked as he pulled out his phone and punched in the command on his text box.  
  
Ell came back out with an armful of things. "Your God damn right we're leaving early. I won't stay in this house another minute with him." She threw it all down into the suitcase with a heavy clunk. "We're going back to Grenvale, I'm getting some things, and then we're flying to Rubio."  
  
Heero looked at her, trying to hide his concern. "Rubio?"  
  
"Political capitol of this side of the world. My brother lived there. His funeral will be there." She pulled another suitcase down and started packing more things in. Yuy rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"You do realize that people will be there who can recognize you. People who can recognize me."  
  
Her eyes turned to him and were burning flames. Ell threw all the things she had in her hands down on the bed and stared at him. "I don't care about those people." He watched broken heartedly as she wiped a tear away. "And if you care so God damn much then I suggest you take some time off or leave. Your choice." She said as she began putting her things in bags.  
  
Heero nodded, understanding that now was hardly the time to talk about anything. He turned and started to walk out.  
  
"And I'm serious about having those cars ready!" She shouted, her voice cracking.  
  
Yuy sighed. "Of course." And he closed the door behind him.  
  
Eileen threw a few more things in, and then she threw some more in even harder. She stuffed thigns in faster and harder and she started to beat them in with her fists as hard as God would let her. She cried. She fell over onto the floor clutching pairs of underwear, sobbing like she had never sobbed before.  
  
Heero leaned against her door and listened to her cry. One tragedy for another, that's how it always seemed to be in this household. He let go of the handle and made his way down the hallway, thinking about how he was going to have the cars and gear ready to go in an hour and how he could possibly get away with killing David Ky Takada. 


	20. Maybe It's Over

Rubio, in regards to importance, was the DC of the Eastern World.  
  
Meaning blonde, the city was named for the color of the sand that surrounded it and its beautiful beaches. One the other flip of the coin, the city was a massive place, housing near one million people, with the crime rate of a Vegas strip and the pollution of a toxic waste dump.  
  
Still, Bio, as it was affectionately known by its residents, was the happening place for politics, parties, and education. With six major colleges, one hundred and eleven nightclubs, Parliament, and the home of the Attorney General and Prime Minister, Bio was the new mecha of a generation searching for money, sex, and independence. It was a place for the new, a place for the young, and a place where tradition still held some meaning amongst the day to day rituals.  
  
The plane had taken off an hour ago and they were in the air somewhere between Hell and Grenvale. Eileen hadn't said a word since they left; she only stared out the window in personal contemplation and grief. Her marriage was falling apart, as it had so many times before, her ghosts kept haunting her and tempting her, and her brother had died. What a month.  
  
There was no smoking on the flight which was bad, because Yuy was dying for a cigarette. He was in need of anything nicotinic - gum, a patch, a pill, you name it, he wanted it. And he couldn't stop thinking about ways to mutilate and murder Ky Takada bit by bit by bit by piece by heart by brain. He wanted to see him beg and squirm and die with such horror and humiliation.  
  
His soldier was coming back to him, he could tell.  
  
Zechs was dead. He didn't know how to feel about that. Heero always just went under the assumption that the guy was a Nancy-boy prick and that he hated him. Now that he was dead though, he didn't know how to feel. Sure the guy had had it out for him from the beginning, and yes, they had had their run-ins and quote, unquote fistfights, but, he didn't wish that he would die! Well, maybe once or twice, but, never really, really.  
  
They landed in Grenvale at 3:30. Eileen repacked, had lunch, and made a few phone calls, all without saying a word to anyone of her traveling caravan. The group was back on the plane by 5:00, on a two hour ride to Rubio. Clad in black, with her hair throw back into a pony-tail, Mrs. Takada feel asleep in her seat, drifting to a place where no one could see her. But from where he was sitting, Yuy could see her, just barely, out of the corner of his eye.  
  
He watched her the entire trip.  
  
Four bodyguards, two pilots, one attendant, and one personal assistant were onboard the small private jet. It was solemnly quiet the entire way, excluding the occasional cell phone rings or minor small talk between the bored passengers.  
  
They were getting closer to Rubio. Heero could tell by the sparkling light show that lay spread out before and under them. He grit his teeth, just another place he hated.  
  
Michael Carson tapped Yuy on the shoulder. "Hey, we got a situation."  
  
Michael Bernard Carson was a 6'3" Brit with shaggy brown hair and green eyes. He was one of the four guards that took shifts watching Mrs. Takada. There were always three of them following her around at any given time, leaving one for a vacation or rest break. Carson had been off the job for two weeks and looked great. He had gone to the beach, got a tan. Heero was jealous.  
  
"What is it?" Yuy stood up, adjusting the ends of his suit.  
  
Carson pulled out a sheet of paper he had printed off from one of the computers. "There was a terror threat at Bio International and they're cutting off all out-bound flights and denying all in-bounds."  
  
Heero took the paper and ran his eyes over it. "And we're definitely in- bound."  
  
"We're royally fucked." Carson said as he took the papers back. "How do you want to handle it? Just go back to Grenvale?"  
  
Heero closed his eyes. What to do, what to do? She sure as hell wanted to go to Rubio and nine times out of ten, if they went back to Grenvale, she would be furious and make their lives pure and utter chaos. And he didn't want to wake her up, but, what else could they do?  
  
"My husband owns a penthouse in San Valor. The building has its own runway built for the rich and oh, so mighty. If you call and make arrangements, we can be there in twenty minutes." Eileen she said nonchalantly, peering out the window.  
  
The two men looked at each other. Carson nodded his approval and headed back towards the cockpit, pulling out his phone. Heero stood silently, watching her watch the world down below her. She wondered what it would be like to just jump.  
  
"Is that what you want us to do?" He asked, standing straight and tall.  
  
Ell looked over at him with murky eyes. "It's an hour away from Rubio." She turned back towards the window. "It's a good distance between me and the world."  
  
Her hollow voice faded down to gentle breathing as her eyes opened and closed, gazing down at the lights and towers of a city they couldn't get into. Heero took a deep breath and let it go. So much he wanted to do, and so little he actually could.  
  
Too much that he can't.  
  
Yuy rubbed his upped lip and took his seat again. Carson poked his head out from the Captain's doors and gave the thumbs up.  
  
"The Grand Regency is expecting us and leaving a light on." He shouted proudly, disappearing back into the mind of the machine they were in. Michael Carson was twenty-nine and had secretly wanted to be a pilot since he was a little boy.  
  
They felt the plane tilt, the humming of the engines changing tempo and pitch, as they made their way East towards San Valor. Heero looked out the window. San Valor, San Vacio, and San Muerte were all founded by the same people and were all within thirty minutes of each other. Maybe if he were lucky enough to get away, if even just for two or three hours.  
  
They hit the ground at 7:23 in the beautiful city of San Valor.  
  
Compared to Muerte, this place was a paradise. Beautiful streets, beautiful people, beautiful lands, and a crime rate that would send its darker brother into a state of cardiac arrest from lack of murder, Valor was a place for the family.  
  
Looking down on the cobblestone grounds and storefronts with their window baskets, Heero thought the place was charming.  
  
The plane was unloaded by both Eileen's staff and the hotel's. She and Carson and one of the other guards who simply went by the name of Grue, went on ahead to the penthouse.  
  
Ell's color was pale, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was tired. So much had sucked the life out of her in so short a time, it was a wonder she was even walking around out all.  
  
A china doll, that's what she reminded Yuy of when she turned and stared at him as he opened the door to her room. Her blank expression, her red lips - she lacked the will to care and cared too much to let it slide off her back. Yuy questioned what he was going to ask for next, but, he did it anyway.  
  
"Excuse me." He said, a formality and polite gesture he just as soon preferred to get out of the way.  
  
All she did was blink.  
  
Heero cleared his throat. "I was wondering if I could have today and tomorrow off. Vlad, Carson, and Grue are here, and I've been working for almost four straight months without a day off." He could tell she didn't care by the way she stared through him. Her dainty hands twitched a little from time to time, proving that she wasn't in a state of comatose.  
  
A wave of guilt swept over him, leaving her like this, or trying to anyway. Part of him wanted to stay and cradle her until she fell asleep in his tired arms, the other wanted to get out of this circus and go. Well, go home.  
  
"Please." He let his guard down for just a moment and showed a genuine need. The cry was heard in his voice even through the grief-stopped ears of the woman in front of him.  
  
Ell looked up, never moving. "Tell Carson and Hanarah." She paused as she turned around towards the bed. "Then you can leave."  
  
Heero watched as she lowered herself onto the mattress, curling up in a ball. He watched the way the lights from outside left patterns on her vulnerable and weakening body, a truly dazzling display. Her black dress was out of place in the room with crème colored walls and crème colored sheets. Her brown hair fanned out like a thousand baby snakes, all trying to slither away, but going nowhere. She was going nowhere. He was going nowhere. It all had hit a dead end.  
  
So he was going to leave.  
  
Yuy walked out and let Michael know she had given him the time. He made his way down to the lobby and found her assistant Hanarah Roxariano, telling her the same. At the front desk he called for a taxi which arrived almost immediately on the street in front of the Grand Regency. Clean, pretty, and on time - why couldn't more women be like that?  
  
Nighttime had descended and made him feel at home as he slid in the backseat and muttered out his directions to the driver ahead of him, behind the Plexiglas. The man's eyes grew slightly when he heard where he needed to go; he was going to make a shit load off this poor sap.  
  
The driver put the car in gear, and drove away from a place Heero hadn't been able to escape for four months.  
  
There was a twitter of anticipation and nervousness in the pit of his stomach. He tried to shake it, but it didn't matter. They hit the highway and every time he saw a sign for San Muerte the butterflies and twitters came back stronger and harder. It was like they had tiny jackhammers and were trying to break out of his body. He didn't understand it.  
  
"Hey Buddy, which exit you want? 270 or 279?" The driver asked, glancing at Yuy in his rearview mirror.  
  
How could they possibly be here all ready? Heero looked out the window and saw the neon lights of his lost oasis. The Para Building, the Booby Bungalow - he had forgotten the way the looked, the way they dirtied-up the city and made it look like a boozer's paradise.  
  
God, he forgot how much he missed this place.  
  
Yuy looked up at the driver. "What'll put me closer to Leadership Dr.?"  
  
The guy with the tacky golf hat shrugged. "It's a five minute drive if you hit 276."  
  
Heero nodded and leaned back against the squeaking leather seats. "Then that's the one I want."  
  
The city came closer and closer to the windows as they merged through traffic on onto the off-ramp. The car rolled to a stop as they hit a red- light, giving Heero time to look at the scum and hookers that walked the streets at nine o'clock at night.  
  
The red and blue flashes of a cop car were creeping around the corner of a gas station as a man ran from the store as fast as he could. Yuy smiled, just a common occurrence in this part of the world.  
  
The taxi turned onto a road Heero had been down many times, and one he knew by heart. Every bump, every street sign, every store that lined the way, they were all etched into his memory for some reason. What he thought he would forget, he hadn't forgotten. And the thought of that made him feel strange.  
  
The feeling he got when they pulled up to a place he hadn't been to in months was even stranger, and even more indescribable. The cab came to a stop in front of the humble building with its quaint little closed sign, but he couldn't move. It all came rushing back like a waterfall. It all came back too damn fast.  
  
"You gonna get out, Buddy, or you got somewhere else to go?" The guy asked as he turned around in his seat to face his fare.  
  
Heero blinked hard. He thought he could do it. He thought he really could, but being here, now, he realized that he couldn't. He had to leave. He had to go before this feeling choked him. He had to go before he started to do the unthinkable. He had to go before he started to cry.  
  
He swallowed hard. "No, you know. On second thought just take me--"  
  
There was movement to the left of him and when he turned, he saw his own worst fear, turning out the lights and closing the door. He watched it bend down and lock it, sliding the keys back into its pocket. He stared at it as he shifted to the other side of the cab, stared at it as it stood studying the yellow taxi, and stared at it as it shrugged and started to walk away.  
  
"Just take you where, Buddy?" The guy barked, annoyance in his tone. Money, money, money, that's all they ever want.  
  
So beautiful. It was so beautiful.  
  
"Hey, look Pal--"  
  
"What do I owe you?" Yuy spit out as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. The man gave him a puzzled look before consulting his meter.  
  
"One-fifty?" And if Heero had been paying attention, he would have realized the guy had gypped him out of twenty dollars.  
  
Yuy got out of the cab and threw the money through the passenger seat window. The driver smiled and gave the finger to Yuy's turned back as he drove off.  
  
Heero adjusted the shoulders of his long black trench coat, slowly making his way up behind it. It with its pale, faded, blue jeans and oversized, grey sweatshirt. It with its black hat and blue book bag. It with its swaying hips and bright blonde hair. He marveled at the way it kept perfect time in its steps - one, two, one, two.  
  
He was so close to it he could almost reach out and grab a strand of its hair. He was so close that he could almost call out its name and let it no longer be a phantom or a voice on the phone. But before he could do that, it turned around, and it stared at him.  
  
They stood there on the sidewalk and didn't say anything. The way her mouth gaped open and the way her eyes darted back and forth proved that if anything was said, she would be the first to say it, be it a word of disbelief or welcoming.  
  
Anya closed her mouth, but she didn't smile.  
  
"You?" Was all she could think to say, and just standing there was all she could do.  
  
Heero smiled a little. "Nice to see you too."  
  
The blonde Russian blinked hard and shook her head a little, like she was trying to wake up from some sort of serene daze. She tried to smile, but failed.  
  
"No, no, I mean it's, it's good to see you too, ya. What are you doing here?" Her voice was full of confusion and a lack of enthusiasm, like his presence was that of an unwanted guest or a bad doctor's report.  
  
Yuy wet his lips. "I was in the neighborhood; thought I'd drop by." She wasn't acting the way he expected. Something was different; there was a slight hint of paranoia in her glances and tone. She was acting somewhat skittish, somewhat afraid.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to be in Grenvale, watching that man's wif--"  
  
"She took a trip to San Valor, and I was long overdue for some off-time." He interrupted, digging his hands into his pockets. Things were tense and awkward for some reason. Things were strange.  
  
Anya stared at him, thinking of what to say but saying it all with her eyes and her shell-shocked expression. "I'm sorry. I just, didn't expect this."  
  
"It's a surprise, you're not supposed too." Heero growled. "You're making me think that it was a bad thing to come out and see you."  
  
She moaned as rubbed her eyes. "It's not a bad thing, just, I expected that you would call first or something."  
  
"Well it seems the last time I called you hung up on me. So it's not like I really had a chance to ask you if I could come over." He shouted at her.  
  
"Yeah, well, sorry about that. I guess I should put my life on hold when you come crashing through the doors, ya?" Her voice got a little higher and bitter. She was hiding something; she was on the defensive. What could it be, what could it be?  
  
"I didn't come crashing through any doors, Anya. I made one phone call hoping to talk to my friend. I made one taxi trip hoping to see my friend, and now I wondering if I even have one." Yuy took a step closer to her, her blue eyes following his. He wanted to understand what had changed her so much.  
  
"So you tell me, was this a wasted trip, or can you not treat me like I'm somebody from a past life?"  
  
Anya sighed and ran her long fingers across her soft, white face. She looked off to the side of her and closed her eyes. She opened them and peered at the man she had once been so enamored with.  
  
"I was just on my way home." She said. Heero let his eyes run over every detail of her face. The way her round cheeks turned bright red in the spring chill. The way her nose twitched when she was doing something she hated. He missed the way she smiled at him, the way she lit up a room. He missed the way she would run her fingers through her hair, leaving it disjointed and straggly atop her head. He missed her.  
  
Korvchek rolled her eyes. "Do you want to come with me?"  
  
"Are you asking me because you want me too or because I want you too?" Heero replied, coming up beside her and giving a small grin.  
  
"Now I remember why I tried to get you a job so far away. Your sarcasm if enough to make me want to die." She groaned. Heero laughed a little, and she had to smile too.  
  
They turned and started heading towards the trains.  
  
The two bought tickets on the L train and took their seats in the back. Neither of them said much as they clicked and clacked their way towards her small studio apartment. Anya stared out the window and formulated a plan, an idea.  
  
How was she going to explain Luka? God, if Heero found out he would kill her! No, he would kill Luka, and then he would beat her. Amazingly she had been able to slip off her engagement ring when he wasn't looking and hide it in her pocket. Even more so, Luka was out of town for another four days. Praise God, miracles do happen. His stuff was all over the apartment though. Either way, Yuy was going to find out she was involved. Either way, she was going to feel guilty about Heero finding out she was involved. She didn't know why.  
  
She didn't like him being here. Secretly, she had hoped things had changed, but now that he was here, she was having doubts. It would be easier to leave things changed, but part of her did miss him. Part of her missed him very much.  
  
Oh God, she had kissed him! He probably remembered that. Well of course he did! If she remembered it he absolutely had too. What did he think of her? Man that had been a stupid move. She wasn't even sure why she had done it. And now he was here, looking at her, making her second guess a lot of things. This was not what she needed. This was not what she wanted.  
  
"I missed you." He said as the train came to a stop, and he wasn't sure why he said it.  
  
Anya kind of stared at him with a confused and hurt expression before they stood up and got off the train. The silence was heavy as they walked onto the platform and became almost unbearable by the time they made it down the stairs.  
  
Heero stopped. "Look, if you don't want me too come over, I'll leave, okay? This doesn't have to be some big, strange, awkward moment. I would rather remember the good old days than have this as our last memory." He said harshly, before looking down at his feet. He felt stupid. He felt childish. He felt rejected.  
  
Korvchek let her hand run over the item in her pocket. She bit the inside of her lip and managed to look up at Yuy, with a forced smile. "I want you to come over." Did she really? She couldn't tell anymore. She didn't know anything anymore.  
  
"Then why do I get the extreme feeling that you don't?" He asked, his eyes searching her for some kind of answer.  
  
Anya closed her eyes and looked down at the ground. It was time to tell the truth, or it was time to tell a very crafted lie that sounded like the truth.  
  
She settled for the next best thing and told the half-truth.  
  
"Heero," she said as she reached out and ran her fingers across his shoulder, "not one part of me expected to ever see you again. I had to harden myself and accept fact. I tried really hard to forget you, and what we had. And my trying paid off." She fought back tears with a blink of her eyes.  
  
A train flew by them on the tracks, and they stood there, eye to eye and shock to shock. They stood there in pain.  
  
"So you being here, kinda fucks me all up, ya?" Anya started to cry, and that hurt him deeper than anything she had said. The fallen pilot walked up and hugged her, and she buried her face into his chest. He held her until he felt her grip loosen; he held her until he felt like he had regained some of what he had lost.  
  
Anya pulled away and wiped her eyes. Her make-up left black raccoon eyes on her face. He didn't need to poke or prod any longer.  
  
"There's a guy, isn't there?" Heero felt a small stab in his chest.  
  
Korvchek tried to smile, but had to look away. She rubbed the snot from her nose and the water from her eyes before she came back and faced what she didn't want too.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The walk to her apartment was surreal and uneventful. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither of them were sure they wanted to say anything anyway.  
  
She had another man. She had someone else to joke with and laugh with and smile with and cry with and confide in. She had someone that wasn't him. And she was obviously serious about him because she didn't want to tell him about this mystery man that he all ready hated. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't worth her. Hell, he wasn't even worth her! No one was. She should just stay single all of her life because no one could ever give her the kind of happiness she deserved. No one, not even him.  
  
Anya pulled her keys out and started to open the front door of her apartment complex.  
  
"Is he here?"  
  
She shook her head. "He's out of town for four more days."  
  
Heero smiled on the inside. At least he didn't have to meet this asshole. Of course, he had all ready known the guy wasn't here. Anya wouldn't have let him come over if he was. She liked to keep confrontational characters and elements as far away from each other as she could. Somehow, her boyfriend finding a man in her apartment at 9:30 at night seemed like a bit of a reason to be confrontational.  
  
The door opened and they walked inside. She popped open the mailbox in the foyer, pulling out letters and bills, making faces with everyone she saw. Anya gathered the mail and started down the long corridor towards her apartment. Yuy followed.  
  
"What's his name?" Heero asked, curious as ever to find out who this fuck was.  
  
"What does it matter, you don't know him." Anya replied, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she slid the key into her front door lock and pushed it open.  
  
"Well, I want to make sure this guy isn't some kind of killer." Yuy said, while Korvchek cringed. "Besides, how do you know I don't know him? Maybe he's some kind of distant relation of mine or something."  
  
The blonde laughed out loud. What a crazy fucking idea. If only he knew what he was saying. "He's from another colony. He just moved her around the same time you left."  
  
"Can you stop saying it like that?" Yuy hissed as he followed her into her place. The first thing he noticed were clothes that did not belong to a woman, and he could have sworn he felt a pang of jealousy, even though he would deny it until the day he died.  
  
"Why?" Anya said as she threw her book bag down. "It's true. You left."  
  
"Yeah but you make it sound like I had seven kids and a disabled wife and just picked up and ran off to some gambling town."  
  
She smiled. "You said it, not me, ya?"  
  
Heero walked over and picked up a shirt that lay on the back of her couch. It smelled like cheap cologne you could buy at the 5 and 10 down the street. Bastard, couldn't even afford nice cologne, how the hell was he going to take care of her?  
  
"Is he good to you?" He turned around and peered at his blonde Russian. She stood in front of him with two beers in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Anya walked up and handed him one, tossing aside the shirt.  
  
"Yeah." She smiled. "He's really good to me."  
  
They sat down on the couch and opened their beers.  
  
"Do you love him?" Heero asked. She could see the hurt and fear lingering in his naked eyes. She could see the way he was trying to cling to some vision of the past, the idea that things would go back to being normal. She wondered if he realized that they never would.  
  
Anya took a mouthful of beer and swallowed it down. She sat for a minute, wondering if what she said would be true, if what she said would be believed not only by him, but by her.  
  
She let her eyes meet his. "Yeah. I think I do."  
  
"Are you going to marry him?"  
  
Korvchek laughed. "What the hell is this? Twenty questions?"  
  
Yuy drank his beer. "It's twenty-one questions actually. And, I think it's just time we talk about you."  
  
She blinked. "Talk about me?"  
  
Heero fidgeted a bit, sliding down and trying to make himself comfortable. In truth, he was trying to stall for time. "Yeah. Every time we ever really talk, it's about me. If I were a real friend, I would have asked to talk about you."  
  
Anya put her beer down on the coffee table hard and shook her head. "Oh don't start that. Don't say that."  
  
Heero looked at her. "Why not?"  
  
"Just don't okay. I won't play into you or your little pity party okay?" She shouted as she stood up and walked over to her kitchen area. "If you want sympathy go find a whore and pay her $100 an hour, but don't you dare come into my house and try to play that shit with me." The blonde shook out two aspirin and popped them into her mouth.  
  
Yuy felt himself go on the defensive. "I'm not playing anything. I just want to know what the hell is going on with you! Excuse me for caring. I'll try to keep that in check!" He hissed back as he made his way to his feet with every intention of going to the door.  
  
The Russian threw her head back and took a deep breath. She swallowed and let her tongue run over the roof of her mouth. Why couldn't things just be simple? Why did this have to turn into some big fanfare? Anya rubbed her left cheek and eye hard and made a disgusted, tired face.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said as she walked towards him. "I've just been under a lot of pressure lately."  
  
"Yeah well, I don't want to add to it." He replied bitterly as he looked at her from across the room. Why did things have to be so weird? Why couldn't they just be friends again?  
  
Korvchek stood in front of him now and took one of his hands. "You never did."  
  
"You still haven't answered my question." God her hands were so soft.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Are you going to marry him?" Heero asked with a sense of foreboding. If she married this yo-yo, he wouldn't have anyone else. He lost one to vows; he sure as hell didn't want to loose this one, this perfect one.  
  
Anya let go of his hand and sat down on her couch. Whatever she said now was either going to be an all-too painful truth or a lie that she and God both knew about. She had made her decision, now she had to live with it. If she denied it now it was like betraying her future husband. If she didn't deny it.  
  
"I don't know." She whispered as she tried to fight back something other than tears and stronger than a smile. She thought it might be fear, but she hadn't felt that in so long, she wouldn't be able to recognize it if it stabbed her in the heart with a bayonet.  
  
Heero took a seat next to her, trying to watch every move she made. He thought she was lying; he thought he could smell fear, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know if his best friend was lying to him or not.  
  
"He's a good man, Heero." She spoke as she turned to him. "I know you don't think he is, or maybe you just hate him because I think he is, but he is good, honest, and decent man." Anya paused and took a breath. "And I love him very much."  
  
He felt a little sick and rejected all at the same time. "Do you want to marry him?"  
  
Korvchek giggled a little through a few stray tears. She wiped her eyes and smiled. "Yeah," she said, "I think I do."  
  
They sat and made idle chit-chat for the next two hours. How the weather was in Grenvale, how Relena was doing. Had he had to kill anybody? Did the old man still give her a hard time about taking long lunch breaks? Had he made any new friends? Did he like his job? What were they being paid? Was this mystery boyfriend decent? Did he have a name? Why was he hiding it from her?  
  
What they had lost in four months felt like it had been regained on her purple, worn-in couch in a matter of hours. They laughed together. They swapped stories and habits. They went through two packs of cigarettes and both had more beers than they should have. But it was nice. It was nice to be happy. They say you don't know what you got until it's gone, but you never really know how much needed it until you get it back. These two lost souls were finally ready to admit that they had missed each other more than anything else.  
  
"It's been so boring without you!" Anya shouted as she slugged him in the arm. "There's never anything to do anymore!"  
  
"Oh, so Lover Boy doesn't have a sense of humor? He doesn't keep you amused." Heero asked as he took a hit from his cigarette.  
  
"Lover Boy has a great sense of humor and he keeps me very amused." Sexual innuendo dripped from ever word.  
  
"Eww." Yuy joked.  
  
"It's just, we could pal around like nobody else, ya? I mean, we could do the stuff that nobody else would think about doing! Like, you remember when you kidnapped Mrs. Seller's dog and released him into the wild!" Anya laughed. She had the greatest laugh.  
  
"He wouldn't stop chewing my paper or barking!" Heero rose to his own defense.  
  
"No see, the kicker was when you were so drunk that you thought the patio furniture display set, complete with fake trees and Astroturf at Builder's Square was the wild!" The blonde had tears in her eyes now and her stomach hurt from laughing.  
  
The pilot took a huge drink of his beer. "Oh shut the fuck up."  
  
Anya stood up and went to the kitchen and looked at her clock. Midnight had come and gone with a sip of their imports. "Well, it's late. I really should get some sleep. Unlike you, I have work tomorrow." She said as she stood in front of the couch.  
  
Heero looked up at her.  
  
She looked down at him.  
  
He still looked up at her.  
  
Anya shook her head and grinned. "You son of a bitch! I knew there was another reason than catching up with your good old friend Anya!"  
  
Yuy made it to his feet and shrugged. "It's just for tonight."  
  
"Too damn cheap for a hotel!" She shrieked as she cleared the beer bottles and ash tray.  
  
"Can you give me the name of one hotel in the surrounding seven miles that don't have roaches or sex stains on the beds?" He reasoned, helping her clean up the lovely mess they'd made.  
  
Korvchek came out of the kitchen shaking her head and smiling. "Fine, but you sleep on the couch."  
  
"Fair enough." Yuy replied.  
  
"There are blankets in the closet and an extra pillow in the one in the bathroom." She directed as she put her hair up in a pony-tail and started walking towards her bedroom. While her apartment was a studio, she had many modifications put in it to make it feel more like a home.  
  
"Hey An?" Heero shouted to her. She turned and looked at him. "Thanks."  
  
She smiled. God, she really did have the greatest smile. "No problem."  
  
"Do you have an extra toothbrush?" He grinned.  
  
Anya rolled her eyes. "In the bathroom, under the sink."  
  
"Thank you!" He shouted.  
  
She gave him the finger and went to bed.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Her room was dark and her covers were more than warmed by the heat of her body. She left her blinds open a little so the light from the sleeping city would pour in and serve as a cheap, free nightlight. She guessed it must be around 3:30 in the morning, because that's what the red numbers on her clock said.  
  
Anya moaned and turned over. "What are you doing?" She asked, her voice sleepy and soft.  
  
Yuy sat up in his chair. "Well I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might get tired if I watched you." He whispered back.  
  
"Bull shit." Her bed was so warm and soft and she'd been having such a good dream. She would make a mental note to kill him when she was awake. "You just want to sleep in my bed."  
  
He smiled. She hadn't opened her eyes once since he'd woken her up. Or she woke herself up; she did that sometimes. "Have you ever tried to sleep on that couch?"  
  
Anya let out a sleepy cry and rolled over onto her back. "That's the beautiful thing about having a bed, Yuy. You get to sleep on it."  
  
She opened her eyes a little, and saw him sitting in the chair, looking as eager and tired as a little boy. Korvchek closed them again and scooted over. This was pathetic. "Come on you damn pansy."  
  
Heero climbed in next to her and she threw the covers over him. Yeah, her bed was much more comfortable than that piece of shit couch he had helped her pick out.  
  
"Better?" She asked, slowly drifting back to sleep.  
  
He watched her start to go away from him, heading back to the most vulnerable of places she could ever be. She was so wonderful and honest and funny and perfect. She was everything he had really wanted, and yet she was nothing he ever did. She was out of league. She was better than he was. She was someone he loved.  
  
"Yeah," he whispered, "much."  
  
Anya turned to him, lying on her side. Her hair draped over her face like a golden veil, as if she were a goddess he was having the unheard of privilege of lying next too. This was what that boyfriend of hers got to see every night.  
  
"Good night, Cyka." Anya mouthed, barely audible.  
  
Heero reached out and moved some of her hair away from her face.  
  
"Good night, Anya." 


	21. Waking Up

It was somewhat uncommon to wake up without a shirt on in a bed that smelled like warm vanilla and had flowers printed on the sheets, or at least it was for Yuy. Caught up in the moment and the heated blankets, he felt like he should be gathering his clothes and making his way to the door.  
  
And it took him a minute to realize it was all ready daylight, and that he still had his pants on.  
  
She walked in. Her blonde hair was thrown on top of her head and she was taking off her shirt. He watched in amazed confusion as she stood there, clad in only a pair of boxers and her black lace bra.  
  
"You need to get up." She commanded, a hint of irritation in her voice. She had yet to turn and look him in the eye. He had yet to question why she was undressing in front of him. She hurriedly gathered up random items in her make-shift room and threw them into a box in the corner. It was only 8:16 in the morning.  
  
Yuy rubbed his eyes in an attempt to rouse himself from his sleep state, but felt himself loosing the battle. He settled for a question instead. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
Anya held a shirt up to her chest and looked in the mirror. "Cleaning." She threw it back down and looked for another one. "And you need to get up, get a shirt, and get gone."  
  
Heero looked down at the pillow. "I'm not the only one." He muttered.  
  
"What?" The Russian asked in what seemed shock, taking time out of her apparently all-important search for the right outfit.  
  
"I said, 'Good morning to you too.'" He moaned as he sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face in his cold hands.  
  
Anya rolled her eyes. "Bull shit."  
  
"Yeah well, what are you gonna do? That's life for you." Yuy said in one of those Devil May Care, lack-luster ways that most men do when they still don't have the energy to bitch or the time to care. He got up and walked down the homemade hallway and into the living room. He grabbed his shirt and slid it on over his head. He saw his socks and shoes strewn across the floor. He must have been extremely drunk last night or something.  
  
Yet then he remembered. He had just been lonely.  
  
"Hey, An?" He shouted to the back as he fell ass first onto the couch.  
  
Heero heard a mighty tumbling from the bedroom, followed by a Russian curse. Anya sat on the floor and stared at the high-heel that had caused her to go down like an old lady. A strand of hair fell strategically in front of her face. She sighed. "Ya?  
  
"You all right?" Yuy asked, concerned as he bent down to tie his imitation leather loafers.  
  
Korvchek smiled to herself. "Fine. Just looking for a shirt."  
  
"Don't worry, you looked fine without one." Heero thought to himself, immediately wondering why he thought it. Then, he immediately remembered he had thought of it because she did.  
  
He started to tie the other shoe. "You mind telling me why the hell I'm being thrown out of your apartment at," he glanced at his watch, "8:23 in the morning?" His sock had bunched up inside his shoe, and irritated, he had to take it off and fix it.  
  
He heard the footsteps of his blonde companion coming towards him and looked up just in time to see her perfect figure walk past. She had put on a low-cut, long-sleeved black shirt, and a pair of low-rising, black dress pants, that left just enough room for her naval to show. There was a tattoo of a black Pagan sun around it. God, what a beautiful sight that was to see. And Heero had to remind himself to close his mouth, because he had been staring.  
  
She was twisting her hair and putting it in a ponytail when she turned to face him. Or rather, it wasn't to face him, it was to throw him his jacket and keys. "You are leaving because I have somewhere to be."  
  
Yuy and his morning shadow looked up at her. "And that somewhere is?"  
  
"None of your damn business, ya?" She hissed with a heavy malice, a kind Yuy had rarely ever heard her use and a kind she had no reason for using now. Korvchek let her hair fall down against shoulders and turned towards the kitchen.  
  
Heero stood up and grabbed her wrist. Anya threw her clenched fist in bitter reflex, stopping just in front of his face. Her breathing was heavy; the color had drained from her face. The shock was hidden behind Yuy's ice cold eyes. Slowly, she lowered her arm back down to her side. The brown- haired boy stared at her, searching for what he couldn't find. She met eyes with him, and they stood there, silently dead-locked.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" He whispered, fixated on the subtle quiver of her red, red lips.  
  
"Nothing." And she slid her wrist out of his grip, laying it in the palm of her other perfectly soft, perfectly manicured hand. Anya looked away, wetting her lips. Tension grew in her fingertips like mold to outdated bread, and she blinked hard to the two pairs of feet on the ground. Heero watched, concerned because his gut instinct told him to be. He always listened to his gut.  
  
"Nothing seems like quite a lot these days." His said in his stern, low voice. It reminded Anya of her father. It reminded Anya of her past.  
  
The pretty girl who was a pretty train wreck slid her tongue against her teeth. "And therein lies your misconception."  
  
Heero peered, dumbfounded, at the woman in front of him who raised her chin and regained her elitist air. She arched one of her eyebrows and almost smirked at the confused boy in front of her. Without even looking she reached down and picked up his keys, holding them out with a sort of arrogance he had seen once before.  
  
"Thanks for your visit." Anya spoke, spite and elegance dripping from every forced syllable. "But now, I need you to leave."  
  
Yuy never broke the stare as he reached out and grabbed his keys. It felt like much more came with them than just his way home. It felt like a piece of their friendship and a piece of hate came with it. Silence played into the dramatic scene, and he slid the keys into his pocket.  
  
"Well," he said quietly, trying to analyze and crack the sarcasm she laid before him, "at least you need me." He slid on his jacket and licked his lips. "It's more than I can say about you."  
  
Anya's eyes fell a little, as though some kind of humanity had fallen upon her. Heero tipped his imaginary hat.  
  
"Thanks for the lovely room and board." He spat as he turned away from her and made his way to the front door. "I'll be sure to tell all my friends."  
  
Korvchek watched him as he left the door wide open. She stared, frowning at the void without really staring at it at all.  
  
"You don't have any friends."  
  
Heero made his way out onto the sidewalk, and headed towards the station. What the hell had just happened? No really, what the hell just happened? Not more than seven hours ago they had been the only two people in the world. They had been the best friends, wrapped in each other's arms and sleeping. Then, all of the sudden, out of left field, she throws an emotional curve-ball and they're acting like enemies. Had he said something? Did he insult her? Maybe he left the seat up and she really just had issues about that. She really did just kind of snap like a bi-polar twig. Maybe he should go back and talk to her? Try to figure all this out?  
  
Yeah. Right.  
  
Yuy dropped a coin in the slot and made his way through the bars. He got on the train that would take him to where he could get a taxi. What a hell of a day this was turning out to be, and he still had a funeral to go to. Great. He was leaving one drama for another. The only question was, which one was more important. That question though, bled through to hidden meanings and left his psyche wondering if it was really about dramas, or rather, people.  
  
Which one was more important?  
  
Heero watched the scenery blur through the window panes of the train. Oh yes, what a hell of a day this was going to be. 


	22. One More Thing to Lie to Yourself About

Heero came back to his post with very little to say, very little to do. As per instructions, he had dressed for what was to be the most dreary experience of the month thus far. He tried to think of things that didn't pertain to Anya. He tried not to overanalyze what had happened earlier, not to obsess about it. Yet, even as he sat in the room with the woman he had been so convinced he loved - the woman he was still convinced he loved - he could only think of two other things. Himself and the Russian girl who had thrown him out.  
  
She had moved on. He should try doing that too.  
  
Heero stopped. Move on from what? From who...?  
  
Six hours had past. When he had come back to the hotel, he looked tired and angry. Part of her had wondered where he went, the other side didn't care. She was far too racked with her only guilty depression to care about anything anymore. Because, miracle was something that Ell had given up on. Miracles were just beautiful pictures painted by people who were too naive to accept reality. Everyone will die, and everyone will die alone. No one can get ahead in life. There is no higher power that can extend its mighty hand and say, 'You there. I shall shower good fortune upon you and change this unhappy tiding around for the better.' Oh no. There is no perfect being with an all-consuming love and a greater master plan. There is only Fate, and Fate is a sick bastard. Fate likes to screw you over and laugh about it. Fate enjoys misfortune almost as much as Hitler enjoyed genocide.  
  
There was no more hope to win. There was no more glimmer amongst the jet black clouds. White knights had long since retired and Camelot had been burned to nothing more than a modern day Bosnia. So much for happy endings. So much for the last remaining shred of decency in her life. Goodbye to that perfected smile. Goodbye to those heart-felt words that served as a life raft in the middle of her Atlantic.  
  
Ell looked at herself in the hotel mirror. Her tears and red eyes distorted her vision, leaving her with the feeling of looking into fun-house glass.  
  
At least, her memories were fading.  
  
With shaky, frail hands, Eileen placed her black hat atop her brown hair. She lowered the veil across her flawless face, hiding her eyes behind a lace pattern of roses and swirls. She choked back her tears and swallowed the lump in her throat, lowering her hands from her face to take it all in. She had once been a beautiful woman. One with so much vitality and life. There had once been a tint to her cheeks, a rosy color that was as vibrant as the shade of her blue eyes. Happy. She used to be happy.  
  
But now, Mrs. Ky Takada was attending the funeral of her only living relation, dressed in the same color she saw the world in these days. Eileen closed her eyes tightly, a single tear rolling down her pale, white cheek. "Go unto God." She whispered to herself and to her brother, as she opened her eyes. Irony peered back at her from the other side of the mirror, and she gave a sad smile. "God." What a novel thought. She used to indulge in those.  
  
Heero stood motionless against the back wall by the door. His thoughts had finally left him, and he watched her carefully now, finding it hard not to tremble himself, if only in his hands.  
  
Eileen stood up from the vanity she had been sitting at, with a slow and deliberate grace. Her movements were dulled by the pain in her heart and the lack of her reason to really try these days, but she still did. She turned around and faced him, looking like a fallen angel. It made him wonder about a lot of things he had been doing as of late.  
  
The broken woman picked up her black leather coat off of the bed, and made her way to the door. Heero opened it for her, like he was expected to, and she made her way through it like she was expected to. She stopped halfway, and he turned to see only the back of her form.  
  
"Heero?" She asked, a hoarse sound to her soft voice.  
  
"Yes, ma'am?" He replied, hoping that whatever she asked he could do without losing his composure or anymore sleep.  
  
Eileen sniffled. "Am I beautiful?"  
  
Yuy felt a pang somewhere in his chest.  
  
Ell paused and fought back the harshness in her throat. "Am I beautiful like I used to be?" She whispered.  
  
The boy let his eyes run up and down her back. He let his memory retrace all the steps he had ever taken with her, all the memories he had ever made of her. The lines between objective professionalism and his own heart blurred. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted to take her in his weakening arms and hold her to his chest and inhale her beautiful smells and feel all the things she felt. He wanted to be with her more than anything. He wanted to tell her she was...  
  
Anya flashed before his eyes, and Heero blinked hard.  
  
"Mrs. Takada--"  
  
"Tell me." She said, taking his hand into her own trembling ones. Eileen looked at him with such desperation in her faded blue eyes, and he felt his heart give way to something, something he could have easily confused with sympathy. The pilot struggled to keep his stone cold manor.  
  
"Please." She begged. When her eyes met his, it was a wonder that he had lasted this long, and Yuy betrayed his own, logical reason.  
  
"You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever met in my life." He said with a bold and honest voice.  
  
The truth he gave in that statement caught them both off guard. They stood there for a moment, motionless and holding onto whatever it was they were sharing. Over time, she let his hand go. Eileen let the corners of her mouth turn upward.  
  
"I am still beautiful, aren't I?" She agreed quietly as she turned back around, remorse mixed with a dull joy in every step she took down the hallway.  
  
Heero shook his head as he reached behind him and closed the door. "Yes you are." For some reason, he was glad that she didn't hear him. 


	23. Start the End

It was the political event, or even more sickening, the social event of the year. In the famed "St. Christopher Donally Cathedral of God," over 3,000 people showed up – some sitting in the church, others standing outside watching Teleprompters – to pay their last respects to a man that had been held in great reverence. A man of the people, a man of the public persona, a man of politics, and more simply put, a man – Zechs Marquise was now dead and in the $2500 dollar coffin the lay before the masses.  
  
Eileen Takada sat next to her bodyguards in the seventh row back, and thanks to her husband's strict policy of "no photographs," had yet to be recognized by anyone in the media or the political mainstream. Her vision was blurred and her make-up was running so terribly, it was probably for the best that no one knew who she was. She felt like an idiot, crying so hard. Or maybe it wasn't for the crying at all. Everything in her life was a big joke. This was a joke. He wasn't dead. This was just some stunt for publicity.  
  
Ell swallowed hard and let the tears stream down her face. Please let this just be a stunt.  
  
Heero glanced at the frail, weeping woman beside him from time to time. He wanted to reach out and hold her, wanted to let her know that everything was going to be fine. To whisk her away to somewhere that they wouldn't be found, to wipe all her problems off the map, that's all he wanted to do. And what was he doing instead? He was wishing again. Never the man of action, always the man of thought. What an idiot he was.  
  
The priest had gone on for far too long before allowing one of many of Zechs' close, personal "friends" to give a speech about his valor and courage and perfect vigilance and dedication to his country and fellow man. Sometimes someone was so bold as to joke, lightening the mood of grief with laughter. Sometimes one would call out Noin, reminding her of how great the man she had been with for so many years was and how everyone in the room felt her pain. Eileen laughed on the inside bitterly. No. No one in the room knew what it was like to lose a husband you loved completely. Her eyes drifted to the pilot boy beside her. To fake the smiles and pretend not to be bothered, while secretly you spend your time drowning yourself in medication and depression. She looked at his flawless blue eyes; the way his stone cold face stared straight ahead, so determined, so sure. And in a moment of weakness, she wanted to take hold of his hand. But she couldn't. Wouldn't. They were too far gone for that.  
  
Mrs. Takada watched the pregnant woman she was loosely acquainted with stare mindlessly at the floor, eyes focused on her feet, but not focused at all. Her mind was a million miles away, coping or not coping, grieving and dying all over again with every bitter, tattered, and foolish word the current speaker uttered. It was all the same in the end, and Eileen understood. She understood when feelings all blurred into one and gave way to nothing but vomit and self-hatred. She knew what it was like to be alone. To have nothing left to live for...  
  
Oh God, Ell felt so bad for Noin. She felt so much pain for her.  
  
"A man that so many of us wished we could be..."  
  
Eileen trembled. Somebody stop it! Somebody had to shut it off! Oh Christ, it was too much for her to take. Her brother, the only person in the whole world who knew her secrets and her most inner thoughts, the only person in the whole world she truly, honestly loved... No, this couldn't be real! Somebody please, anyone! Just make it stop. Just, kill her. She wanted to die. End it all. She couldn't do this. It couldn't be done! She had to get out! She had to, to not be here in this place with these... people! Oh, these fucking liars! They didn't know him! They didn't know him like she did! They weren't worth his words! His kindness! No, help! She needed help! She had to go! Had to leave.  
  
Heero turned, nervous at what was happening. She was shaking. She was breaking down.  
  
"Mrs. Takada, are you alright?" It was more than obvious that she wasn't, and he felt ridiculous for asking. But, Yuy was beginning to feel something that, had he had the chance to notice, would have bothered him. He was suddenly very scared, because he very well might lose her again.  
  
"I can't do this." She whispered shakily through the onslaught of tears. Ell shook her head and ran her delicate, trembling fingers over her face. "I can't do this anymore."  
  
A few eyes fell upon the woman who was standing from her pew, some shocked, others understanding the reasons for her interruption. She was walking fast towards the door, running now, her high heals clacking violently against the cobblestone and as she threw open the planks of wood that kept her locked inside, suffocating on grief and misery and reality and all the things she hated about this God damn world and all she wanted to do was make it outside. She had to get outside. She had to breathe.  
  
She fell against the grass in a secluded garden, her knees underneath her. Eileen Takada began to sob like she had so many times before, but this time not because she was sad. Not because she was hurt or drunk. No, this time it was because she was filled with such hatred, such overwhelming anger that the Heavens would shake and the earth would moan.  
  
The woman threw her hands up to her eyes, smearing her make-up. It was too much. This was too much. Her husband was a coward and a liar and the worst person alive. The man she had loved for so long had come back to torment her, finally deciding he wanted her too. Her children were never home to comfort her. Her brother, her confidant and friend, was now rotting in a box...  
  
She had nothing to live for.  
  
"WHY?!" She screamed towards the sky. The snot fell down her face and mixed with her tears. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME, YOU BASTARD?!" Ell beat her chest, clutching at her heart. She wanted to rip it out. She wanted to rip it out and bury it next to her brother. Her poor, fucking brother...  
  
Eileen slowly started to fall towards the ground, but, two arms wrapped around, pulling her close to the warmth against his chest and the smell of his cologne and one of the few comforts she had left.  
  
Heero's heart shattered into a thousand pieces and he pulled her to him. He held onto her so tight and so fierce, that had she had the strength to care, she'd tell him to stop. He was hurting her. Right now though, she needed the pain. She needed something other than this onslaught of misery. Crumbling marriage. Emotional lies. Death. Destruction. Empty. Loss. Nothingness fading to what she was...  
  
"It's alright." He whispered, fighting back the tears and the crack in his voice. "It'll be okay." He kissed the top of her head, rubbed his hands over her back. So much he wanted to do for her. Oh God, he wanted to kill that fuck-up husband of hers.  
  
Yuy looked down at this beautiful, tragic woman in his arms. How could he have ever second guessed his love for her? He felt a sharp pain in his heart. Love. He loved her. He wanted to tell her, wanted to comfort her with this strengthened realization, but, how could he? That was like taking advantage. Robbing a ship while the crew was asleep.  
  
Ell cleared her throat and pulled herself back. Her eyes were as red as blood and her face was covered in black lines from the mascara that had fallen with her tears. There was so much confusion in her expression, so much loss and fear. She didn't care anymore though. She didn't want to feel anything.  
  
"Kill me." She said through the choking in her throat. Her voice was hard and angry.  
  
Heero stared at her, disbelief ringing in his ears. "What—"  
  
"You heard me! If you love me so much you put me out of my God damn misery!" She shouted, patronized.  
  
"Rele—"  
  
"Do it! Shoot me!" Her eyes were wild. Eileen or Relena or whoever she was now, she didn't know, ripped off her hat her hair falling against her shoulders cinematically. Heero's breath escaped him, his sanity slowly slipping too. Her tone so much softer now, "Please... Just kill me... I can't live like this. I can't do this anymore. Please, just kill me." She cried harder. All he could do was stare with an opened mouth. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what do.  
  
"Please!" She begged, grabbing his arm, her hands angling their way towards his gun. Yuy couldn't think. His whole life was flashing before his eyes, all his thoughts and memories and ideas and preconceived notions about life and death and love. A blonde girl on the beach, smiling at him. A braided boy killing a man. A Russian girl's smell. A dog barking. His best friend's laugh. His dog-tags against his skin. Blood. Death. Chaos. He hated it. He hated fighting and violence. Misery needs company and so does the dead. NO!  
  
He grabbed her arm and in an attempt to save her from herself, or maybe even him, Yuy stared at her with such contempt and hatred as to cause her body to go limp in his hands, falling into a shocked stupor. How could she want to take what he had come to need so much? Come to hold so dear. She was all at once the enemy and the prize. The dream and the nightmare...  
  
Stupid bitch! All she cared about was herself! She didn't care how he felt! If she wanted to die, fine! By all means, go ahead! Wipe yourself off the face of the earth, but not here! Not now and sure as hell not with his weapon! Yes it was bad! Yes it would probably get worse, but God damn it, she couldn't give up! She had two children! She was better than that! And more importantly, she couldn't leave him alone. Couldn't leave him, because, for the last handful of years he had come to love her so much that it killed him on the inside. It kept him up at night and plagued every minute of every thought of every day. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her. So, if she wanted to die, fine. He did love her that much. He'd let her do it, but he hoped to God she wouldn't. Because he was selfish and wanted her to be with him, and he would wait for the rest of their lives until she was ready to give him a chance again.  
  
The girl who had never grown up stared, wide-eyed and shocked at Yuy. Her mouth gaped open and her shallow breathing could barely be heard over the light breeze that was moving in along with the rain clouds. She didn't know what to say to him. And it took a moment or two, but, Heero eventually realized that everything he had just thought of, he had spoken aloud. Everything he had wanted to say, he said. And he felt very, very foolish.  
  
They sat there, staring at each other in completely disbelief and uncertainty. What could possibly come next? What could they possibly say to each other now? Now that he had said it all...  
  
The church bells rang. The ceremony was over. Everyone would be on their way to bury the dead.  
  
Mrs. Takada's lips shook as she thought of something to say. She looked away, staring at the entry way. So many reporters crowded around the stairs, waiting to take award-winning photos or shots of the now infamous, pregnant widow.  
  
Eileen let her eyes come back to his. "We should go." She whispered.  
  
Heero blinked himself back into the state of the solider. The state he needed to be in for what was coming next. "Yeah..."  
  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
  
Hundreds of people crowded around the casket and flowers at the Rubio Military Cemetery, all staring at the widow, the preacher, and the army men with the rifles, prepared to cast off a twenty-one gun salute to the fallen hero.  
  
He stood there, next to his former partners, his arm around Zechs' wife. His heart ached for her, and it ached for Zechs. He'd never get to see his child. He'd never get to see the life he'd made grow into something so much better than anything he could ever have hoped for. Tragedy. God, such tragedy.  
  
The man let his eyes survey the crowd, disgusted by some of the members of the press, honored by the politicians and civilians that had come. Some were familiar, others were distant. One woman though, with brown hair and a hat covering her face, reminded him of someone she knew. And the man behind her, that man... Those glasses... No. It couldn't be. Could it? His mind was just playing tricks on him. He had been thrust back into a part of his past life, one he had forgotten. It was only natural he would try to incorporate all aspects of it. All the people he knew. But God, he looked just like...  
  
The man in the sunglasses across the crowd removed them, wiping the lenses with a handkerchief. And in the same amount of time that his whole world had been knocked over with the news of Zechs' death, it was completely obliterated by the figure that stood in front of him.  
  
Heero Yuy. That was Heero Yuy. And the woman, the woman was...  
  
Oh my God... It can't be.  
  
Duo Maxwell quickly let his arms slide from Noin's back and down to his trembling, shell-shocked side. It was impossible. She was dead. He was missing. That was all there was too it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Besides, she was dead. Not living. Gone. History. No more. But, when the figure across the way caught his eye, he knew that it was not the truth. His former war partner stared him down like a lion to his prey, and Maxwell knew.  
  
Maxwell knew that the woman was Relena Dorlian.  
  
Heero grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "We're leaving." He commanded.  
  
Eileen stared at him, confused. "What?"  
  
"We've been blown." Heero hissed. He pulled his wrist up to his mouth and shouted a command into the radio. Mrs. Takada's eyes surveyed the crowd, and when she saw what Yuy meant, she turned quickly. Oh God, they'd been blown.  
  
Duo left his position next to the widow and began making his way through the sea of people, while Yuy and Eileen made there's towards the town car that had been summoned to the curb. Maxwell's pace increased, as did theirs.  
  
They were out of the funeral precession now. Practically running past the trees and heading towards the black vehicle in front of them. They couldn't get away. He couldn't let them get away.  
  
"Heero?!" He shouted, hoping to get some kind of reaction.  
  
Yuy slid his arm around Ell's waist and pushed her faster. "Don't turn around."  
  
"Heero!" Maxwell started to run.  
  
The pair reached the car, Yuy throwing open the door. He forced the woman in, before taking his seat next to her. The door slammed shut, just as Maxwell came within five feet of them, of the truth, and of total complications.  
  
The car sped away from him – they sped away from him – and left him with nothing but a shortness of breath and a thoroughly confused mind. Heero turned and looked out of the tinted back windshield, seeing his old friend staring perplexed and annoyed at the vehicle as it moved out of the cemetery and towards the interstate. Back towards Hell and ambiguity.  
  
Duo shook his head. No matter how smart Yuy thought he was, Maxwell was always one step ahead. He read the numbers off the license plate and burned them into his memory. If his buddy wanted to hide, fine. But he'd still find him. He wanted to know what the hell was going on. He wanted to know... so much.  
  
"Welcome home, Yuy." He mused. "Welcome home, you bastard." 


End file.
